


collecting the stars

by jennycaakes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Coping, Fluff, Healing, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 67
Words: 56,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6591199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Minty drabbles that are placed in canon-verse. None of them are related to each other unless otherwise stated! Cross posted from Tumblr. Some are short, some are long, all are Minty.</p><p>Fluff, angst, healing, you name it we've got it. Some are canon-AU, others are canon compliant, but they all take place in the 100!verse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you do deserve it

**Author's Note:**

> I figured I should post my Tumblr fics on AO3 as well in an easily accessible zone, so that's where we're at. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set post season 2 finale

Miller found him in the woods, sitting against a tree and thunking his head backwards against the trunk every couple of seconds. He watched him for a moment, too concerned about the bags below Monty’s eyes and the gaunt look his face had taken on. He’d been concerned for weeks, just never knew how to bring it up.

_Are you eating? Are you sleeping? Are you okay?_

“Monty,” he finally called. And though he tried not to startle him, Monty jumped a little anyway. His eyes found Miller’s in a matter of moments but he didn’t hold his gaze long. “What are you doing?” he finally asked.

“Nothing.” Miller made a face. He took a few cautious steps in Monty’s direction and when he didn’t seem like he was going to run away he crossed completely, sitting beside him against the base of the tree. “What are _you_  doing?” Monty asked, a slight lift to his voice that sounded like the old Monty. The Monty that hadn’t helped orchestrate a massacre. The Monty that would laugh too much over things that weren’t funny.

“Sitting here,” Miller answered. “I saw you leave.”

“So you stalked me.” Miller snorted, nudging Monty with his elbow. They lapsed back into silence. The wind was sharp today and Miller readjusted his jacket around himself. “It’s just so hard, Nate,” Monty whispered.

When Miller looked over he found Monty staring off into the trees.

“What is?” Miller asked.

“Existing,” Monty rasped. He lifted his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head back and forth. “Breathing.” 

“Hey,” Miller stopped him, reaching out and resting his hand carefully on his knee. “We’ve made it this far. We’re still alive because of you.” Monty looked up and tipped his head in his direction, following the length of Miller’s arm until Monty found his hand against his own knee. “It was shitty of her to leave you here,” Miller said.

Monty’s eyes snapped up. “It’s not Clarke’s fault those people are dead.”

“That’s not–” Miller pulled his hand back. He knew what Monty was thinking, because Miller had had the same thoughts himself a few times. If Monty hadn’t been able to hack into the system and rewire it to let the air in, those people would still be alive. Instead _they_  would be dead, the Sky People, the Arkers. Monty blamed himself, Miller knew that. “Maybe not. But that’s not what I was saying.” He lifted his shoulders into a shrug. “She left you because she was thinking about herself, she didn’t think about how you’d be hurting too.” 

Monty looked away again. “Why do you care?” he muttered.

“Don’t do that,” Miller snapped. “You know I care about you.” Monty was still looking at the ground. “You were the first person who–” he stopped, letting out a short breath and shaking his head. He didn’t know why he’d followed Monty out here. He knew Monty wanted to be alone. “Forget it.”

Miller went to shove himself onto his hands but Monty reached out, grabbing his wrist. “What were you going to say?” he asked, not letting him stand. “I wast the first person who what?”

Monty was looking at him now, his eyes so wide and intense that Miller couldn’t look away. He felt his face getting warm and hated it, hoping he could blame it on the wind. He wasn’t the person for these talks. Not with anyone else, at least. He wanted to look around and make sure no one else was nearby – not that there was – but he couldn’t break his eye contact with Monty. Miller just couldn’t open himself up like other’s could. He couldn’t have these stupid mushy talks. And then the rejection–the possible reject that went _along_  with these Godawful talks…

“To notice me,” Miller finally said. “To everyone I’m David’s son, I’m the Chief Guard’s son. I’m a thief. But you…” he trailed off and finally looked away. Miller’s throat starting to feel thick. Monty was still holding his wrist. “Of course I care about you,” he murmured, returning his gaze.

Monty dropped his wrist, and when Miller met his eyes he found him looking at his mouth. “I’m not…” he started, and Miller peeled backwards.

“No, I–I get it,” he said quickly. The Ark wasn’t all that big. People liked to make out with everyone but it was hard to find someone who wanted to stick around, someone who really felt the same. Miller understood.

“No, wait,” Monty tried, “that’s not–I mean, I _am_ , but–I…” he reached up, dragging his hand through his dark hair and shaking his head. “I’m not _okay_ ,” Monty finally told him. “I don’t _deserve_ …” he trailed off, his eyes dropping to Miller’s lips again before Monty licked his own. 

“You do,” Miller breathed. “You do deserve it.” 

And before Miller knew what he was doing he’d cupped Monty’s cheek, stretched across, and lightly pressed his lips to his. Monty kissed him back for a few seconds before pulling away with a rare smile (these days, anyway) on his face. Their noses bumped and Monty’s smile grew slightly. 

“Nate,” he murmured.

“ _Shhh_ -ut up,” Miller hushed him, leaning in another time. 

They could talk about what they did or didn’t deserve later. 


	2. first snow

Miller was on guard when it started to snow. It was dusk, the sky was deep purple and blue, and just when he thought it couldn’t get any colder it started to snow.

He’d read about snow on the Ark and seen pictures, but he’d never _experienced_  it. He tightened his jacket around his shoulders and readjusted his stance, glancing out onto the grounds as children and their parents started emerging from their tents.

A smile crept onto his face as cheers started filling Camp Jaha. Miller looked up again wrinkling his nose slightly but still smiling. They’d made it to winter. They’d survived until winter. And he knew it was going to be cold, but dammit the chill would just remind them that they were alive.

“You’re on guard duty tonight?” he heard. Miller turned, finding Monty striding toward him with his hands shoved into his pockets. He, too, had a smile on his face. “It’s going to be cold.”

“I know,” Miller murmured back. “I’ll survive.” Monty stood beside him for a minute before reaching up and unwinding the scarf he’d tied around his neck. “What are you–” Miller protested, but swiftly Monty threw it over his shoulders. “Monty,” Miller muttered.

“Just take it, Nate,” Monty responded, laughing a little. He tugged Miller toward him with the ends of the scarf and Miller stumbled forward, fighting off the red in his cheeks. “You’ll be cold.” 

Miller hated being nervous around Monty but he couldn’t help it. His throat was thick and he couldn’t keep his eye contact with him, especially not while Monty twisted and turned the scarf and tucked it into Miller’s jacket. 

“Thanks,” Miller finally murmured. When he looked up Monty was smiling at him. There were snowflakes in Monty’s dark hair and Miller wanted to reach up, brush them out. Instead he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Monty returned. He shoved his hands into his pockets too. “See you later, Nate,” he said, smiling another time before walking off to where Octavia and Jasper were gathering the snow into their hands to make snowballs. 

The scarf probably helped, but the thought of Monty in general was what kept him warm until his shift was over.


	3. quiet me

Monty’s breakdowns were never loud or attention-drawing. In fact, they were the opposite. He turned in on himself. His eyes got wild as he locked himself away from the world, thinking awful thoughts that were sure to tear him apart.

Miller was the only one who noticed. 

At first, he thought Monty was just tired. That was his excuse. _Going to bed, night guys_. But it was consistent. He would tense up, look around as though he was in the wrong place, and then disappear without much of a goodbye. 

So finally he followed him, his quiet steps hurrying after Monty’s frantic ones down one of the winding tent rows before Monty slipped into his own. Miller was right after him, sliding in without much of a greeting.

Monty turned to face him with those wide eyes, wet and scared, opening and closing his mouth as though he had something to say he just couldn’t figure out. 

“Nate,” Monty finally rasped. “I don’t… I c- _can’t_ …” 

“Hey.” Miller stepped forward, gently placing his hands on Monty’s shoulders. “It’s fine,” he said quietly. “You’re fine.” And then Monty crumbled. He collapsed against Miller, shaking, trying his hardest to swallow his sobs. “Hey, hey…” Miller panicked, quickly wrapping his arms around Monty and holding him close. When was the last time anyone had held him? “You’re okay,” he murmured. 

“Nate,” Monty said again. He couldn’t say anything else. So Miller held him tightly until Monty was out of tears, until he could breathe again. 


	4. in med bay

Miller wakes up with a gasp of air, clutching the sheets as his thoughts swim to the surface. He clambers around as though trying to find his gun–they’re being _attacked!_ –when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Nate,” Monty says gently. “Hey, relax, you’re safe now.” 

Miller’s heart is pounding in his chest. “Ice Nation,” he croaks, and Monty nods. His hand lifts from Miller’s shoulder and Monty’s fingers brush across his cheek. “What happened?” he asks weakly. One minute Monty was being hoisted into the air by a Grounder, tall and well-built and gripping his shirt. The next everything was black. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Monty asks. He laughs a little, his fingers still curling against Miller’s cheeks. “Nate you got _shot_.” Miller blinks a few times as Monty’s hand moves back to his shoulder, gently pointing out a bandage. “I’m fine,” he adds softly. The pain hits Miller at once and he grunts, wincing at Monty’s touch on the wound. “Sorry,” Monty murmurs, quickly pulling back.

Miller reaches out for Monty’s hand, grabbing his fingertips before he’s too far away, and keeping him in place. He sinks backwards in his bed. “Tell me what happened,” Miller demands, though his voice is soft and sleepy. 

Monty smiles. “Let me get you more pain meds,” he says. “Then I’ll tell you all about how you saved my life.” Miller lets out a short breath of air as Monty squeezes his hand once before running off to grab the medicine. 


	5. meeting david

Monty couldn’t help but think how stupidly-cute Nathan Miller was. To everyone else he was Miller, calm and collected, quiet but snappy, maybe even consistently angry. But to Monty he was Nate. Bashful, nervous, awkward, and stupidly-cute. 

Whenever Monty would comment on this Miller would turn a dark red and roll his eyes at him. “Don’t call me cute,” he’d say. _You call me cute all the time_ , Monty would think. 

But for one of the first times since they’d gotten together, Miller wanted Monty to meet his dad. It was Monty’s turn to be bashful and nervous. 

“Your dad won’t like me,” Monty said. Miller was stretched out across Monty’s bed with his hands behind his head while Monty was pacing. “I’m a criminal.”

“Join the club.”

“That’s different,” Monty said. “You’re his son. And he’s _Chief Guard.”_ Miller rolled his eyes and shook his head ever so slightly. “I make the weekly moonshine,” Monty carried on. “I was arrested for pot, Nate!”

A smile graced Miller’s face. “He doesn’t care, Monty. And neither do I. You’re meeting him.” Monty continued to pace before Miller sat up, tipping his head and motioning for Monty to join him on the bed. With a deep breath Monty crossed his tent, sitting down beside him. “This is big for me too,” he murmured. “Ever since he let me join the guard down here I’m worried I’m going to screw something up–we were never the closest. But you…”

Monty searches Miller’s eyes, waiting for him to continue. “What about me?”

“You’re the thing I know I can’t screw up,” Miller said. His voice was deep, his eyes were dark. Meeting Miller’s dad wasn’t the only thing that made Monty bashful. He felt his cheeks going warm. “He’ll adore you.”

Monty made a tiny whining noise and looked away, causing Miller to smile another time. “Fine,” he said. Miller reached out and rested his hand on Monty’s knee, squeezing once. “You suck.”

Miller arched an eyebrow and his smile stretched. He licked his lips. “Sometimes.”

“Stop!”

* * *

With a promise of returning to Monty’s tent later alone, Monty finally sucked it up and decided he could do it. Of course he could meet David Miller. God, he was in love with his son, he should be able to look the man in the eye and say that. 

But since Clarke had left, since Octavia and Bellamy and Raven had devoted themselves to other things, since Jasper kind of _stopped talking_  to him, Monty was scared of losing people. And Nate was too important to him to lose him too. What if David didn’t like him? What would Nate do then?

Miller seemed to notice his hands were twitchy and reached out, tangling their fingers together. He squeezed once and Monty let out a short breath before trying to smile as brightly as possible. Miller rolled his eyes another time and shook his head at him. 

“That was awful, Monty.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” he murmured back. Miller squeezed his hand another time and then together they edged their way into the Millers’ tent. 

Sitting at a desk looking over a blueprint of something was Chief Guard Miller. He was dressed in his gear and looked tired, scrubbing at his face as he looked. Miller cleared his throat and his dad looked up at the two of them.

“Dad,” he said. “This is Monty.” 

David’s eyes dropped to where their hands were laced before he looked back up at Monty. 

“Hi Chief Miller.”

“Call me David,” he said, standing and extending his hand in Monty’s direction. Monty wanted to glance at Miller before accepting but it all happened so fast, and soon David was shaking Monty’s hand. “Nate talks about you a lot.” Miller wrinkled his nose at his dad and David shrugged. “You do.”

“Uh, thanks,” Monty said. 

David laughed, shaking his head slightly like Monty had seen Miller do a million times before. “No, thank you.” Monty’s eyebrows quickly came together. “I heard about what you did.” The air thickened. Clarke was known for making the call that killed the people in Mount Weather, but many knew Monty was the one who’d allowed it to happen. How he’d hacked the system. It was a weight that was heavy in his chest. “If it wasn’t for you,” David carried on. “I wouldn’t have seen my son again. I wouldn’t get to see him every day.”

“Oh.” 

David’s heavy hand came down on Monty’s shoulder in another quiet thank you. “You have guard duty at six,” David said to his son. Miller nodded once. “Don’t be late this time.”

“Got it.”

Then he nodded his head at the two of them, and Miller was pulling Monty back outside the tent. Monty turned to look at his boyfriend with wide eyes.

“That was it?”

“That was it,” Miller said with a laugh. “More to come.”

“More to come. Like, what–dinner?”

“Sure. Baby steps.” Miller tugged Monty toward him and wrapped his arms around him. He was slightly taller than Monty and his lips ended up against his forehead. “Thanks,” he murmured. Monty sighed into Miller’s chest, returning the hug and pressing himself closely to his stupidly-cute boyfriend. There was a loud whistle from somewhere and Monty felt Miller’s arm swing up, probably to give an obscene gesture. “Fuck off, Reyes,” he shouted.

Monty laughed, pulling back and turning to see Raven and Bellamy with gear in their arms crossing the camp. Bellamy winked at the two of them before the two of them walked out of sight. 

Miller tugged Monty’s hand again and they started off for Monty’s tent. “So I’m free until six,” he said. “Any ideas for until then?”

Monty grinned. “Plenty.”


	6. morning shifts

Out of all of the shifts, the morning shifts were Miller’s favorite. He was a morning person, he couldn’t help it. After living in a cage his entire life he loved waking up with the sun. He liked to listen to the birds in the trees, the sounds of camp as everyone began to wake up.

Bellamy… not so much.

He was more of a night shift kind of person. Even now, going on 10 in the morning, he still looks groggy. He rubs at his eyes and Miller smirks, readjusting his firearm by his side. Bellamy’s hair is getting longer (Raven keeps saying she’s going to cut it while he’s sleeping one of these days) and is rumpled beyond belief. As if he knows Miller is staring Bellamy turns on his heel to look at his friend.

“You should grab some coffee before you get to your post,” Miller says.

Bellamy frowns. “I did. Doesn’t help.”

Miller’s smirk widens and he shakes his head. He looks out across Arkadia. Things are still a mess, but it’s getting easier day by day. He has his dad and he has his friends and he’s alive, for crying out loud. Earth is beautiful. 

His eyes stray a bit until he finds the mechanics hub where someone else with messy dark hair is exiting. Monty stretches in the distance and squints into the light. Raven likes to keep her work space dark and it’s bright with the morning sun. 

Bellamy must’ve followed Miller’s gaze because he clears his throat. Miller looks back to his friend with eyebrows high on his forehead. “What’s that about?” Bellamy asks, tipping his head toward Monty.

“What’s what about?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Miller chooses not to respond. He’s been doing so damn well at not making it obvious. Bellamy narrows his eyes. “Monty,” he clarifies loudly. Miller narrows his eyes as well before looking off toward the boy, hoping he hasn’t heard Bellamy say anything. Thankfully Monty is too far away. “C’mon, Miller,” Bellamy pushes. 

“We’re friends. Same as you and me.” Bellamy snorts. “Why’s that funny?”

“Because you do _not_  look at me the same way you look at him,” Bellamy says. Miller rolls his eyes and stands at attention again. 

“I’m just worried about him,” Miller mutters. “With Jasper off doing whatever the fuck he’s doing–”

Bellamy cuts him off, “It’s more than that.” Miller snaps his mouth shut and gives Bellamy another angry look. Bellamy shrugs, looking pleased. “Yeah?”

Miller lets out a short breath and looks for Monty across Arkadia again. He’s gone now but Miller’s chest is still annoyingly warm. He’s not going to lie to Bellamy. “Yeah,” he mutters in response. 

Bellamy dips his head in acknowledgement, that stupid smile still on his face. “I’d say it’s probably the same for him,” Bellamy tells his friend. Miller looks back up and again Bellamy shrugs. “We spend a lot of time together,” is all he says.

Miller’s chest is still warm, but it’s less annoying now. “Shut up.”

Bellamy tips his head back in a laugh. “Just saying.” 

Yeah, Miller’s always been a fan of mornings. Maybe he’ll find Monty in the afternoon.


	7. he doesn't deserve you

Miller always ended up in Monty’s tent on Friday nights.

He was pretty sure it was the moonshine that got him to go over there. Not that Monty was making it, exactly, but a cup of it made Miller brave enough to be around Monty without all of their friends around with their stupid watchful eyes. Waiting for something Miller wasn’t sure would ever happen. 

Mostly he came just to hear Monty’s voice. He liked listening to Monty talk. About physics. About the seasons changing. About whatever. But tonight Monty was talking about Jasper and he could barely stomach it.

“Sometimes I just want to follow him up there,” Monty said from his seat directly across from Miller. “But I know it’s his own time. It’s just I want him to know I’m here for him, you know?”

“Sure,” Miller murmured. 

“He can barely look at me these days,” Monty continued quietly. “Let alone have a conversation with me. I just keep thinking maybe if I follow him up there then we can really talk things out, you know? That we can move on from this.” Monty shakes his head and drags one of his hands through his hair. “I just miss him. I miss him so much.” 

Miller tried not to sigh. He lifted his gaze to Monty, tired and upset. “You love him,” Miller murmured.

Monty’s eyebrows came together and he tipped his head forward. “Of course I do.” Miller felt his ribs getting tighter but didn’t respond. “He’s my best friend. We grew up together.” Miller took a deep breath and clenched his teeth.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Miller muttered.

Monty’s head spun around. “Nate?” 

“Well he doesn’t,” he snaps. “You did what you had to do,” Miller says angrily. “And I know–fuck, Monty. I know you hate what you did, but you _saved_  us. People will say it was Clarke or Bellamy, but it was _you_. And he can’t–if he can’t fucking see that then he doesn’t deserve you.” 

“Nate,” Monty said again, his voice softer than before. He stood then, ignoring the way Miller’s stare was focused on the ground and crossed to sit beside him. Miller felt the tension in his shoulders slowly seeping out. “I mean, I–he’s my best friend,” he repeated. “That’s all.” 

Finally Miller turned his head. His eyes met Monty’s for a brief moment before he exhaled. “Monty, I…” Miller looked away. He couldn’t hold Monty’s gaze any longer. “Sorry,” he grumbled. 

Monty reached out for Miller’s hand. “S’okay,” Monty said. Miller wanted to pull away but he couldn’t. Monty’s hands were softer than he’d expected, especially after this long on Earth. Warm and comforting. “He doesn’t see it that way,” he added, a touch softer. “I… didn’t know anyone did.” 

“That you saved us?” 

“Yeah.” Monty shrugged. “I don’t know if I would’ve been able to pull that lever,” he said. “I don’t think I could’ve, Nate.” Miller turned their hands, pulling Monty’s closer to him. “But I still feel responsible for all those deaths…” he trailed off. “It’s a losing battle,” Monty murmured. “I never feel the good in that situation. I don’t feel like I saved us, but I do feel like it’s my fault they’re all dead.”

“Then start thinking like you saved us,” Miller said softly. 

“It’s not that simple. Especially not when Jasper looks at me the way he does.” 

“I can talk to him for you,” Miller said. There was a hint of anger in his voice that made Monty’s eyes widen slightly. “If you want.”

“I should do it.” Monty couldn’t help the smile that slowly crept onto his face. “Besides, what would you say?” 

Miller went to pull his hands away but Monty held tight. “I’d figure something out,” he muttered. 

Monty’s smile widened again. Maybe it was because he hadn’t realized the signs before, or maybe because someone was openly telling him that he wasn’t at fault, but instead also a hero like Bellamy and Clarke. But Monty was drunk on this feeling. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Miller’s quickly.

When he pulled back Miller’s eyes were closed and his lips were parted. “Monty…” he whispered.

“You’re jealous,” he murmured. 

Miller’s eyes were still closed but now his eyebrows came together. “Painfully,” he admitted. 

“Of Jasper?” Miller licked his lips, nodding slightly. Monty leaned in another time, close enough that their breath was mingling. “You definitely shouldn’t be,” Monty murmured. “I never wanted to do this with him.” 

Miller’s eyes finally cracked open. “No?”

Monty shook his head. “No,” Monty confirmed. And then he kissed Miller again. Their lips collided and Miller swung one of his hands up to cup Monty’s neck, to keep him close.

Later, nestled under the thick blankets on Monty’s bed, Monty traced patterns across Miller’s forearms while Miller watched with sleepy eyes and a sleepier smile. 

For the first time in a while, since the Mountain, Monty thought things were actually going to turn out okay. 


	8. we'll figure it out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> background bellarke

“I had her in my hands.” Monty tipped his head ever so slightly in Bellamy’s direction, finding his friend staring at the glass on the bar. They’d made it back to Arkadia and Bellamy wasn’t happy about it, not at all. Monty knew that. He wasn’t very happy either. “I had her in my _hands_ , Monty.” 

“I know, Bellamy. We’ll find her again.” 

Bellamy let out a short breath before picking up his glass, knocking back the rest of the alcohol in one swift motion. “She went with him to save me,” Bellamy said. 

“I know,” Monty said another time. Because Bellamy had told the story to him on repeat. _She was there. She saw me. I saw her. She was alive, inches away. Breathing. Looking at me. There. And then she was gone again._ “Indra already has a lead,” Monty reminded him. “We’re going tomorrow.”

“Not soon enough,” Bellamy muttered. 

Monty sighed, tipping his head into a nod. He agreed. But Bellamy was still limping and needed another night off of his leg before Abby would clear him. And not that that had ever stopped Bellamy before, but they also needed Indra who wouldn’t be there until tomorrow. 

“Fuck,” Bellamy nearly groaned. “I’m sorry.” Monty arched a curious eyebrow at him but Bellamy had lowered his head into his hands. “You don’t want to hear me go on about this,” he murmured, rubbing methodically at his eyes. “I know you don’t.”

“I know you care about Clarke. So do I.”

“It’s not the same.” 

Monty sighed another time. “I know,” he said. 

Bellamy looked over at him. “Talk about something else,” he nearly begged. “I’m going to lose my fucking mind if I keep thinking about this.” 

“About what?” Monty asked.

“Anything. Literally anything.”

He said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m in love with Miller,” Monty said. Bellamy’s eyebrows shot to his forehead and Monty looked away, down at his empty drink, wishing he had more. “Seeing him with his boyfriend–I mean I’m happy for them, but it also sucks an entire amount.” 

“An entire amount,” Bellamy echoed quietly. “Shit. We need another drink.” He motioned for the bartender to refill their glasses before turning back to Monty. After knocking back the clear liquid that was poured Monty turned back to his friend. “You okay?” 

Monty shook his head. He shrugged. “I have to be,” he said. “Are you?”

“I have to be,” Bellamy repeated. He licked his lips and looked back down at his glass. “The second Indra’s here we’re heading out,” he said, and Monty nodded in agreement. “First we get Clarke back. Then we…” he trailed off, unsure if he should mention Miller or not.

Monty offered a shy sort of smile. “Then we figure the rest out,” he offered. Bellamy nodded his head. 

“Then we figure the rest out,” he agreed.


	9. babysitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this was before we knew Miller's bf's name whoops - I was so close though....)

Monty wasn’t really sure what’d he’d gotten himself into.

He should’ve been helping Raven with the sonic blasters she was working on, or catching up with his mom, or _something_ , but after finding out which kids Monty’s father had died saving he couldn’t _stop_ himself. So he offered to babysit.

It was rare for people in Arkadia to get nights off and the two parents of the four year old Priscilla who’s survived their time battling the Ice Nation definitely deserved a break. And Monty didn’t mind. His dad was dead. He understood that. But he died _for these kids_ , and Monty wanted to honor that memory. He wanted to know them.

Only, Priscilla was a little brat. And she wanted nothing to do with Monty. 

He was currently chasing her down Main Street in Arkadia, weaving his way in and out through the crowd of people that was mulling around. And then she vanished. Monty froze, looking up and scanning, until he found Miller with Priscilla in his arms.

Monty’s mouth went dry. Miller was holding Priscilla like he’d done it a million time, this small pale girl with her legs wrapped around his middle and a laugh pasted on her face. Miller turned his head to find Monty striding toward them. 

“You must be the evil babysitter,” Miller said, referencing what Priscilla must’ve told him. “Sissy and I go way back, don’t we?” he asked.

“Our dads are friends!” Priscilla cheered. “Can’t you come play, Nate? Please please please!” Miller exchanged a look with Monty who tried his hardest not to look like he was also pleading. 

But Miller shrugged. “Nothing else to do,” he said. Priscilla cheered, and together the three of them marched back to her family’s tent.

* * *

After an evening of running around and lots of yelling, Monty was exhausted. But in the end Priscilla fell asleep against Miller as he told her a story, of heroes and villains, of mountains and drills. 

“The heroes won?” Priscilla asked with a yawn right before she dozed off.

“The heroes always win,” Miller told her quietly. And then she was out. 

Monty was slumped backwards in a chair. He was quiet for a few moments, mostly because watching Nathan Miller with a four year old girl was probably the most adorable thing he’d ever seen in his life, but also because he was tired. 

“You’re good,” Monty said. “With kids.”

“I like kids,” Miller answered. 

“You don’t seem the type.”

Miller flashed him a rare smile. “No?” 

“No,” Monty echoed. His eyes fell on Priscilla. Her hand was curled against Miller’s shirt while he toyed gently with the ends of her hair. She was starting to drool. “My dad saved her,” Monty said. “Before he…” 

Miller nodded as Monty trailed off. “That’s what I heard.” Another pause. “He was really brave,” Miller offered. “Saved Briar, too.” _Briar_. Miller’s boyfriend. 

“Yeah,” Monty murmured. Okay. Maybe he didn’t want to know _all_  of the people his dad had saved. He didn’t have any plans on getting to know Miller’s boyfriend. Not now, and probably not in the future. He’d end up saying something stupid, like, _it’s great you’re alive but honestly I kind of want to make out with your boyfriend, so you being here isn’t helpful. “_ Thanks for helping,” Monty said.

“Sure. Sissy’s… a lot. Her parents used to drop her off in our unit before getting drinks with my parents. I’ve babysat her a million times.” Miller shifted, readjusting the girl against him. “She’s a good kid though.”

“She is,” Monty agreed. 

“And your dad gave her the opportunity to grow into a great one,” Miller added.

Monty sighed. “Yeah.” He pushed his hand through his hair, unsure whether to look at Miller or at the girl. “You’re right. Thanks.” Miller offered him another, and finally Monty smiled back. “Thanks,” he said again. 

“Any time,” Miller said. “And if you want to talk about it,” he said. “Your dad…” he trailed off, looking uncertain. “I mean, I lost my mom. So I know how it is.”

Monty didn’t want to say it _another_ time, but he was sincere when he said, “Thank you, Nate. I really appreciate it.” 

Miller smiled another time. “You should probably just stick to engineering though,” he said. “Maybe avoid babysitting.”

Monty smiled too before a tiny laugh escaped him. “You’re probably right.” But truthfully? Monty would skip engineering _any_ time if he got to babysit with Miller.


	10. everyday is a fight

“Jasper stole Finn’s ashes.”

“Bryan called me a sociopath for defending Lincoln, ended things, and then joined Pike’s group.”

“So did my mom.”

“She called you a sociopath and broke up with you?” Miller asks. 

“Oh, shut up.”

Miller takes the blunt from Monty’s hands and takes a long hit. Miller lets out a long breath, filling the air with smoke. Monty watches as it drifts upwards and disappears and then takes the blunt back from him. “You ever think,” Miller starts as Monty takes a hit, “that you’ve got no fucking idea what’s going on anymore?”

Monty laughs, causing himself to cough, and cough, and Miller smirks as Monty heaves for air. “Every day,” Monty admits once he can breath. “I miss when it was just us.”

“Drinking moonshine,” Miller adds thoughtfully. 

“Getting high off jobi nuts.” Monty passes the blunt back to Miller who accepts it with a smile. Monty tips his head slightly, leaning against Miller’s shoulder. “Everything was easier then, Nate.” 

Miller’s free hand, the one without the blunt, swings around Monty’s waist. “I know,” Miller murmurs. “I’m tired of fighting for my life. Every day is a goddamn fight.” 

Monty’s quiet as Miller takes another hit. “Let’s run away,” Monty says.

Miller laughs. The sound is magical. If Miller laughed like this every day then there’d be no war. “Yeah? Where we gonna go?” 

“Who cares,” Monty nearly groans. He presses his forehead into Miller’s side and Miller’s arm pulls him closer. “Just me and you.” 

“Hmm.” Miller passes the blunt back to Monty with a smile on his face. God, Monty likes it when he smiles. “Alright.” Monty manages a smile too. 

Miller turns then and presses his lips to Monty’s forehead, and Monty’s smile widens. Just for now, they can pretend that things are alright. 

 


	11. what can I do?

The only reason Miller finds him by the gate is because he’s been forced to take watch, considering so many people have been thrown into lockup. Miller pauses, glances around twice before confirming that it’s Monty, and then crosses the small stretch of land to his friend.

“Hey,” Miller murmurs. His voice is low and thick, his brain feels like mush. He can’t believe that tonight was something that _happened_. “Monty. You okay?”

It takes Monty a minute to look up, his eyes dark and his eyebrows furrowed together. He looks as though he’s been slapped. “I don’t know,” he rasps. Monty’s eyes drag over Miller’s outfit. “Why’re you on duty?” he asks. “You haven’t been on duty in weeks.”

Miller checks that the safety of the gun in his hands is still on and slides it so it’s against his back. “Where’ve you been?” Miller asks before lowering himself to the ground beside Monty. “Why’s the wall…” he trails off, frowning at the loose board. Monty seems to notice the look on Miller’s face but doesn’t say anything. “Jasper?” Miller asks, and Monty nods. “What’d he do to you this time?” 

“It’s not like that,” Monty tries. Because he knows that his friend is hurting, and grieving, and in pain. But at the same time… “Nothing new.” 

“Fuck.” Miller shakes his head. “I’m going to fucking deck him, I swear to God.” 

“He’s hurting,” Monty forces out.

“So are you,” Miller snaps. “And you don’t go around treating him like shit.” Monty squeezes his eyes tightly together and something breaks inside of Miller at the sight of it. “Shit,” he exhales, reaching out for Monty. “I didn’t–I didn’t mean to raise my voice, Monty.”

“No, I–no, of course not.” He clenches his teeth together as Miller rests his hand on his shoulder. “I know, Nate. It’s okay.” 

His chin quivers when Miller squeezes his shoulder gently. “It’s not okay,” Miller murmurs. “And neither are you.” Monty lets out a weak breath and Miller tugs him, then, into his arms. “And that’s okay,” Miller reminds him. “To not be okay.” 

Monty ends up tucked in Miller’s side. Part of the gun is digging into Miller’s back from the awkward angle but he doesn’t dare move. “How come my not-okay is okay? But Jasper’s not-okay isn’t okay?”

Miller pauses. “What?” 

A wet laugh escapes Monty and he shakes his head. “Forget it.” Miller’s hand comes up and brushes at Monty’s thick hair. Part of this feels wrong, because of Bryan, but part of this feels right, too. His fingers move methodically through Monty’s hair and Miller can feel every small breath that Monty takes. “I hate feeling like this,” Monty murmurs in a voice so quiet that Miller’s surprised he catches it. 

“What can I do?” Miller asks softly. 

“This,” Monty answers. 

So they stay against the broken wall for a long time, Monty resting against Miller as Miller brushes through his hair, ignoring the cramping in his legs from the angle and the fact that he’s supposed to be on duty. 

They stay until camp falls quiet, until Monty can breathe normally again. And then they stand. With one last tender touch that shouldn’t be shared, Monty murmurs a goodnight and hurries away before Miller can say it back.


	12. valentine's day

Monty hardly ever looked up from his work when he heard someone enter. He got too into the wires and mechanics of whatever he was working on to pull his attention away from it, and nine out of ten times they’d call out a greeting to him anyway so he could figure out who it was by voice alone.

But he knew Miller’s footsteps. 

Monty’s eyes flickered up to the entrance of the hangar as he watched Miller enter. He had a sort of swagger to his steps that Monty found ridiculous but also attractive which was annoying, but whatever. His lips quirked into a smile as Miller entered and then Monty went back to work. 

“You spend all your time in this hangar,” Miller said loudly as he crossed the room. “Don’t you think you should move to a lab, or something?”

“No one bothers me here,” Monty responded.

“Well if that’s your way of kicking me out,” Miller said as he settled on a stool, “nice try.” Monty grinned, shaking his head slightly. He couldn’t kick Miller out even if he wanted to. Monty enjoyed the company. And the boy. “Hey, so,” Miller started, propping his elbows up on the table. “I got you something.”

Monty looked away from what he was working on at once. 

“What?”

Miller slipped a small box onto the work table and Monty put down whatever he was working on to reach out for it. His eyes found Miller’s once but only for a moment and then he was pulling the box toward him quickly. 

“I remembered you, uh, saying you were still having trouble sleeping some nights,” Miller said. Monty popped the top and looked in, finding a container of tea leaves. “Thought it might help.”

The war, well _all_  of the wars, had officially ended months ago. But Miller was right, Monty was still having trouble sleeping some nights. He’d only mentioned it in passing so it was amazing that Miller had remembered. Monty felt his mouth tugging into a smile as he looked back up at the boy across from him.

“Thanks, Nate,” Monty said. He quite liked the way that Miller’s mouth cocked into a smile. He liked very much when Miller smiled. “I appreciate it.”

“Plus it tastes good,” Miller added. “Half the shit we find here with _healing properties_ or whatever else Griffin goes on about tastes like dirt.”

“Because it usually is dirt,” Monty said.

“Well this is peppermint,” Miller returned. “Tried and true. And makes me sleepy, so hopefully it’ll do the same for you.”

Monty ignored the way his chest felt warm. “Thank you,” he said another time. The way Miller smiled at him was enough to get him through the day.

* * *

Out on a snare run with Bellamy and Raven later that day, Monty was _completely_ confused as to why Bellamy would stop every twenty feet or so to pick a flower. So he finally asked. 

“They’re for Clarke,” Raven said dismissively, waving her hand in Bellamy’s direction. His jaw was clenched but his eyes were bright. After everything, after Wanheda and massacres and cities of light, Clarke had returned home. She and Bellamy were inevitable, Monty knew that. “For Valentine’s Day, or whatever.” 

“Valentine’s Day?” he asked. 

“I’m surprised so many things are still in bloom,” Bellamy said, ignoring Monty’s question. It was the middle of February and cold as ice, and still flowers sprouted here and there. Must’ve been some sort of side effect of radiation. “It’s–Raven, stop giving me that look,” Bellamy muttered. 

She held her hands up in surrender but still looked slightly smug. “Wait–it’s Valentine’s Day?” Monty asked again.

It was a holiday that was so rarely celebrated on the Ark that Monty didn’t even think about it. In fact, he’d never had anyone to celebrate it with. His mom and dad would tell him that they loved him but that was about it. Monty shivered, and it wasn’t entirely because of the biting wind. Miller had given him a gift this morning.

“They used to have chocolates and balloons and crap,” Raven said with a nod as she hunched down to retrieve a rabbit from the trap they’d set. “Bellamy’s getting sentimental and getting Clarke flowers.”

“Shut up,” Bellamy muttered. But still, his eyes looked bright. Bellamy was such a romantic it wasn’t even funny. 

“Wait,” Monty was still trying to process. “Are you sure? That Valentine’s Day is _today_?”

“ _Yes_ , Monty,” Bellamy said with a nod. “We talked about it in history the other day.” History class. Where Bellamy was the new teacher. Kane’s idea. Bellamy was thriving on it. He loved kids and he loved history, so it worked out well. “Why?”

“Miller…” Monty started, but stopped when both Raven and Bellamy turned to look at him. “Nothing.” 

“Nothing,” Raven echoed.

“Did Miller get you something?” Bellamy asked. The scowl that was on his face from Raven’s teasing had vanished, replaced by a brotherly beam that made Monty want to melt into the ground. “He did!”

“Nice,” Raven said with a grin of her own. “Bold.”

Monty looked away from the both of them and readjusted his coat around himself, shivering another time. He didn’t say anything else to either of them on the subject. But he certainly had to find Miller.

* * *

Miller wasn’t that hard to find. When he wasn’t in his and his father’s compartment and when he wasn’t on guard duty, he was in the library. Miller had a thing for literature which was also annoying and also attractive. 

He was sitting in an old chair, one they’d taken from Mount Weather, with a book in one of his hands. No surprise there. It took him a moment for his eyes to travel up from the page he was reading but then a smile crossed his face. He placed his hand between the pages and folded the book across before turning to Monty.

“Hey,” he started.

“Do you know what today is?” Monty asked.

Miller paused a minute before dipping his head. “Mm-hm.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Miller said. “I didn’t just admit I knew what day it was. I appreciate the reminder.” Monty frowned at him, but Miller’s lips were still quirked into a smile. “What’s with the attitude?” Miller asked.

“I didn’t get you anything,” Monty said.

Miller shrugged. It’s not like they were together. They weren’t. They aren’t. Miller and Bryan broke up months ago and things have been slow moving ever since. But _Valentine’s Day_. 

“You didn’t have to.”

Monty wanted to whine. “ _Nate_.” But again Miller shrugged, looking pleased with himself about this entire situation. “I’m getting you something. What do you want?”

Miller tipped his head back in a laugh. “Monty, you really don’t have to do that.”

“What. Do you. Want.”

“Shit,” Miller said, still laughing a little. “I thought it was obvious what _I_ wanted. You’re the one who’s hard to figure out.” 

Monty blinked a few times, shaking his head. Books? Did Miller want books? He extended his hand in Miller’s direction with a frown, “I’ll be back,” he said.

Miller laughed another time, and it was music to Monty’s ears.

* * *

What did Miller want? It could be a wide variety of things.

He liked coffee, but not the bad instant stuff that was leftover from the Ark. He enjoyed the coffee they’d been trading with Trikru to get. But it was winter so the trades were less frequent, and even if they _were_  coming today it’d be hard as hell to get his hands on some of it.

So, something else. Books, Monty thought about again. Miller loved books. Classic literature, really. But what had he read and what hadn’t he? Also it wasn’t like there was a bookstore Monty could just walk to. All the books Miller wanted he probably had access to in the library they’d started. 

“You’re cracking me up, Monty,” Harper said from where she was stretched out on her bed. Her head was resting in Monroe’s lap while the girl was playing with her hair, twisting her nimble fingers through Harper’s long locks. “You’re overthinking, I promise.” 

“But like–am I?” Monty asked. He’d run it by Jasper if he could, but Jasper was _not_  good at things like this. Zero percent good. “He got me something I needed, but didn’t exactly ask for. Should I do that?”

Monroe shook her head at him. “You’re killing me,” she said.

“Oh, Roe,” Harper said with a little laugh. “Don’t give it away. This is too fun.”

“This is _painful_ ,” Monroe corrected. The two of _them_  had spent their Valentine’s Day in bed. “You’re being an idiot, Green. Miller doesn’t want a gift.” Monty frowned at her and stopped his pacing. “He wants _you_.” 

* * *

He found Miller at the bar with Raven, the two of them taking shots of some brown alcohol that made Monty’s nose wrinkle. Monty settled in the seat beside Miller and Raven’s eyes lit up.

Miller turned to Raven and muttered, “Leave.” Raven scoffed. “ _Reyes_ ,” Miller warned.

Her eyes were still bright. “Fine, fine.” She smirked at Monty as she strode away, her long hair trailing behind her. 

Miller turned back to Monty. “So,” Miller started.

“So,” Monty echoed.

“Figure it out?”

“Potentially,” Monty answered. His heart was beating a million times a minute.

Miller’s eyebrows shot up his forehead as a playful, probably alcohol-induced smile took his face. “Prodigy can’t figure it out?” Miller asked. “I’m shocked. Really. I am. Because I’m not subtle at all, and–”

Time to bite the bullet.

Monty cut him off, reaching forward and cupping both of Miller’s cheeks before pulling him toward him. His lips found Miller’s easily and Miller groaned, swinging up his hand to make the angle less awkward and tilt Monty’s chin back slightly. And soon Monty groaned too, frustrated with how they were sitting because it wasn’t nearly close enough and it was definitely way too public. 

So he pulled back. 

Miller looked dazed.

“Was I right?” Monty forced out through a high voice. Miller grinned, blinked a few times, chuckled, and leaned into kiss him another time. Monty allowed it simply because he’d waited _so long_  for this to happen that he couldn’t stop himself. But he wanted answers. So he pulled back again despite Miller’s hands protesting and trying to pull him closer again. “Nate,” Monty breathed. 

“Sorry,” he rasped. “Yes. Correct. Good. Wow.”

“Loss for words?”

Miller smirked at Monty’s smile. “Shut up.” 

“How long?” Monty asked. 

“Too long,” Miller answered. “Since the Mountain, maybe.” 

Monty’s eyes widened. “That’s like, forever.” 

“Fucking tell me about it,” Miller murmured. 

Monty still had one of his hands cupping Miller’s cheek. His thumb brushed across his stubble. “And you waited until _Valentine’s Day–_ a holiday that doesn’t even _really_  exist anymore–to do something about it?” Miller looked sheepish then, and it was so fucking cute. “You’re as bad as Bellamy,” Monty said.

“You take that back.” 

“Nu-uh,” Monty said, shaking his head. And then he was kissing Miller another time.

This time when they broke apart it wasn’t due to awkward angles or needing air or teasing or whatever, but because it turned out Raven hadn’t left after all and was whistling from a distance. 

Miller nearly groaned.

“I bet the hangar’s empty,” Monty suggested. 

Monty was on his feet in an instant. Miller had grabbed his hand and was rushing from the bar, dragging him along. “What the hell are we waiting for?” he asked. Monty grinned. No one ever bothered him in the hangar. 

It was going to be a good night.


	13. testing the city of light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written before we really knew how the CoL works!

Clarke had warned him against it, so had Raven, so had Murphy. But tech like this, Artificial Intelligence, was amazing. No matter how dangerous. No matter how risky it could’ve been. So when Jaha offered him a glimpse into the City of Light, Monty took it, if only for a second.

“Monty Green,” ALIE’s voice rang out a moment after he accepted the view. How easy was it for this AI, this tech, to get into his thoughts? Or had Jaha told her about Monty, told her his name? “Do you like what you see?” she asked.

 _It’s AI,_  Monty reminded himself again and again, but he _did_  like what he saw. A beautiful city, a world fresh and clean and safe. It stretched out before him. It wasn’t real, but it felt real, and that’s what made it so terrifying. 

“I just wanted to see,” Monty told the woman.  She was dressed in red, beautiful, composed. He wanted to see so he could understand. “I don’t want to stay.” 

“And why not?” ALIE asked. “Don’t you want to be free of anger? Free of pain?” 

Monty jerked his head to the side slightly. “That’s not living.” Monty took a few steps, feeling the wind of this place dancing across his skin. What was his real body doing now? Sitting there meditating like Jaha always had? “And this isn’t real.”

“Just because it’s in your head,” ALIE said, “means it’s not real?” She reached out, touching him, and he felt it. “How is this not real?” she asked. Her other hand came up to his cheek. “You can feel me. Hear me. See me.” 

“This isn’t what I want,” Monty said, stepping back.

“I know,” she answered. “Because I know what you want.”

“ _Monty_.” Monty turned at the sound of his name, shocked and frozen at the sight before him. Nathan Miller had nothing to do with the City of Light. Just the other day he’d admitted he didn’t even want to see what the hype was about. And yet there he was, inches away, a sacred smile on his face. “Stay,” Miller said, extending his hand to him. “It’s easier here.”

“You’re not real,” Monty forced out. His throat was thick. How could ALIE know? How could she project this? “You’d never agree to this.”

“We’ve been fucked over so many times,” AI-Miller said, “we deserve a break.” Fake-Miller’s hand was still stretched out to him. “Stay. Stay with _me._ I know you want to. _”_

Monty wasn’t sure how he did it but he forced himself out of the vision so sharply that coming back to reality was like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on him. He sat on the ground for a few minutes as he taught himself how to breathe again. 

ALIE was dangerous. If she could make things like that happen, if she could see into Monty’s mind, see his deepest desires and show them to him so easily. Finally he forced himself to his feet and his unsteady legs carried him away. Away from the tech, the testing chamber Jaha had set up, off to find Miller. 

And there he was, sitting close to Bryan, a smile on his face. _Stay with me. I know you want to_. Monty forced himself to swallow as Miller laughed at something Bryan said. _I know you want to_. And he did.

That was what Monty wanted. Miller. Just not like that. 


	14. after the mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> filed under: things I don't actually want to happen absolutely ever

Miller trusted Octavia. He _had_ to trust Octavia, he had no choice. He _had_  to believe that the Grounders would listen to her. He _had_  to believe there wasn’t going to be another war. He _had_  to believe that Bryan was coming back.

Because after four months of waiting for the impossible, Bryan wasn’t _allowed_ to die. Absolutely not. No. 

But when the jeep returned and everyone was quiet, when there was no hustle and no energy, no joy of a victory but instead the somber-tone of a failure, Miller felt his fingers numb. He watched as people climbed from the jeep. Bellamy first, his eyes wild and wet. Hannah second, looking foggy. Monty third, his eyebrows contorted in pain. He looked up and easily found Miller standing there, and with one look Miller knew. 

He _knew_.

The floor rushed out from under him as he leaned backwards against the wall metal wall of the garage. His fingers curled as though he was reaching out for something, for someone to ground him, but nothing was staying still. Next thing he knew Monty was there, his eyes wide and his lips parted. 

“I’m so sorry,” Monty rasped. “Nate, I–”

“Don’t,” Miller cut him off. “Don’t call me that.” He forced himself to swallow and closed his eyes tightly. Miller’s hand balled into a fist as he dug his nails into his palm. He focused on that feeling. Sharp. Consistent. He counted his breaths. When Miller opened his eyes Monty was still standing there. He looked _more_  than sorry. He looked hopeless. He looked tired. Monty looked broken and empty, as empty as Miller was beginning to feel with every long second of silence. “How did it happen? Was it quick?” 

Monty’s eyes darted away and Miller let out a short breath. 

“It was acid smoke,” Monty told him. His voice was small and shaking. “It wasn’t… quick.” 

Suddenly Monty jumped and only after did Miller realize he’d just slammed his fist against the back wall. The sound of rattling metal screaming filled the air as the wall vibrated with the force of Miller’s sudden impact.

“I need you to say it,” Miller forced out. Every word felt like he was trying to breath underwater. He knew it was true, what Monty would tell him, and still he needed to hear it. “I need you to tell me.”

Monty scrunched up his nose as he tried to fight his chin from quivering. “ _Nate_ , don’t make–”

Anger was all he had left to cling to. “ _Monty_ ,” he snapped.

“Bryan’s dead.” Miller let the words wash over him. Miller had been through so much. He’d fought in wars, helped conquer mountains, learned to hope again. And still his eyes were pricking with pain as he fought off tears. “He’s dead. I’m so sorry.” Next thing he knew he was crumbling, the floor rushing toward him as he fell forward into Monty, Monty’s arms coming up to wrap around him. “I’m so sorry,” Monty said again, and again, and again. The only words that filtered through Miller’s mind. _I’m so sorry, I couldn’t save him, I’m so sorry_. 

Miller wasn’t crying but he was shaking. Everything was shaking. A stab of heat jerked through his chest and he pushed away from Monty, from the jeep, and rushed out through the opening of the garage. He needed cool air, he needed to breathe, he needed to–

Miller fell to his knees and heaved, coughing and shuddering until he’d vomited on the ground. The silence that ticked on afterwards was never-ending. Bryan’s family had been killed by Azgeda. Miller was the only one left to lose him. He coughed again before spitting to clear his mouth and wiping his forehead the back of his arm. When he turned back he found Monty standing there, having followed him, and Miller wanted to hurl again. 

“I didn’t even kiss him goodbye,” Miller said. His words were empty. They echoed in the small space between him and Monty. “I didn’t think I had to.” Miller rocked backwards off of his knees and fell onto the ground with a thump. He wiped the sweat from his face again and shook his head. “After everything he survived,” Miller carried out, his voice thick. “After the landing. And the Ice Nation. _This_.” 

“I know,” Monty said quietly.

“I _had_  him,” Miller rasped before dropping his head into his hands. “ _I had him_.” For days, it felt like. Only days. And then he was gone. And now he was dead. Miller forced himself to breathe despite the fact his throat was closing and his chest felt like it was full of gravel. He turned to Monty. “Anyone else?” he asked, his voice flat.

He had to stuff it down. He had to swallow it. How he felt, he couldn’t…

Monty looked away, his eyebrows coming together again. “Monroe,” he forced out.

“ _Fuck_.” 

“Bellamy… Bellamy went to tell Harper.” 

“Fuck!” Miller pushed himself to unsteady feet. “You’re okay with this?” he demanded as he strode toward Monty. “You’re okay with everyone we know _dying_?” 

“Of course I’m not,” Monty threw back, an edge of anger creeping into his voice as well. “You think I’m _okay_ with this?” 

Frustration spilled over Miller. “This is what’s going to happen if you keep _working_  with _them!”_ His voice was loud, louder than it should’ve been. He’d shouted. He’d pointed back inside the garage where Pike was greeting his people. His soldiers. “This is what’s going to keep happening,” Miller hissed. 

“I know you’re upset–”

“I’m _more_  than upset,” Miller cut him off sharply. “That’s not even a fucking question. My boyfriend is dead.” His words were meant to feel like a knife and the way Monty crumbled made Miller think he’d been successful. “If we weren’t so fucking greedy,” he growled. “If we weren’t trying to take people’s _land_ , he’d still be here. This is _his_  fault.” 

 _Pike_.

Monty’s eyes flickered up to him. “There’s a traitor in the camp,” Monty whispered. His voice was so soft compared to the aching timbre of Miller’s. So gentle. Monty suddenly looked terrified, like this was the last place he wanted to be. “Nate if it’s you…” 

“If anyone’s a traitor it’s Pike.” Somewhere deep in Miller’s mind he knew he was being irrational and loud and overstepping. He knew, deep down, that he was getting himself into trouble. That he was ruining what he and Kane had been working for. But the thought of Bryan’s lifeless body in the jeep just steps away was overpowering any sensible thoughts. “And you,” Miller snarled. “If you’re with him.” 

Monty’s face was ashen. “If Pike finds out,” Monty said weakly. “He’ll _kill_ you.” 

Miller spat on the ground beside him. “So be it. What else have I got to lose?” Monty reached out for him then, desperation on his features, and Miller yanked his hand away. “You know where to find me,” Miller snapped. “Until then…” he trailed off.

If that was the life Monty wanted – war, more dead friends, following a dictator – then Miller couldn’t stop him. But he couldn’t look at him, either. Miller turned his back on Monty and ordered himself to swallow before walking toward the jeep, ready to see Bryan one final time.

* * *

Monty found him three days later with shaking hands and empty eyes. It was a look Miller knew well. It was a look he had himself.

“I’m in,” Monty said. “Where do we start?” 


	15. I wanted to warn you

Monty lowered himself down onto the log across from Miller, his eyes carefully moving from Harper to Bryan and back to Miller who was intently staring at the fire. His entire stomach was full of knots. Guilt was tearing him apart from the inside. Because of his mom. Because of his friends. Because of this war that he didn’t want to fight in anymore. 

Monty felt his heart plummet into his stomach when Bryan murmured that he was going to bed before leaning over and kissing Miller on the cheek, murmuring something soft about seeing him soon. And when it was clear that Monty wasn’t going anywhere either, Harper sighed and left for bed as well.

The fire crackled loudly, reminding Monty of how powerful silence could be. Finally Miller cleared his throat. “So you know,” he said. “That I’m with Kane.” Monty winced, but nodded. “And you didn’t turn me in.”

“Or Harper,” Monty added weakly. He barely had to glance at Miller to see his jaw was clenched. “Miller…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say next. “Bryan put the bug on you.” Miller’s head whipped to face Monty so fast he was surprised his neck didn’t crack. “I wanted to warn you I just…” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Miller snapped. 

“In your guard jacket,” Monty said, still fervently ignoring Miller’s angry stare. “That’s how we–” Monty stopped when Miller stood, a hiss of air escaping him as he dragged his hands over his head. Monty fell silent, letting Miller pace back and forth a few times before he collapsed back on the log with a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry,” Monty said lowly, trying to deter his voice from shaking.

When Monty looked up he found Miller looking at him, all trace of anger gone. Instead there was sadness that didn’t look like it was going anywhere anytime soon. “He bugged me?” Miller asked, his voice just as broken as Monty felt. Monty tipped his head forward and winced another time as Miller’s face fell in despair. “Fuck.” He dropped his head into his hands. “ _Fuck_ ,” he repeated, softer than before. 

“He didn’t want to,” Monty tried, but Miller was shaking his head. “He felt horrible, and–”

“He still did it,” Miller murmured. “I never would’ve…” he trailed off, scrubbing his face another time before looking up with his eyebrows pulled together. “Would I?” Miller stared at the fire as though shocked at what someone could to do someone who they loved. “Who _are_  we anymore?” Miller asked, his voice raw. 

When he looked up to Monty, eyes wide and wet and scared, Monty understood. God, he understood everything just from one look. They were still just kids. And they were all so tired of being broken. Monty stood from the log he was on and crossed to sit next to Miller, so close that their shoulders brushed. His hands ached to reach out for Miller’s but Monty knew it was too much, too much. 

Instead they sat quietly, side by side, waiting for answers that no one had.


	16. I saw your face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which I re-write EVERY SCENE EVER to have minty connotations because I'm weak trash hence this ENTIRE collection

“I saw your face,” Bellamy said. His words were heavy in the air and Monty didn’t dare look up from the radio. “When Bryan said he loved Miller,” Bellamy clarified. “I saw your face, Monty.” 

Monty fiddled with the dials a little bit, ignoring the pounding of his heart. “I don’t know what you mean,” Monty lied. He’s never been the greatest liar. Bellamy sighed loudly before settling into the seat beside Monty, nudging the controls of the radio out of the way in a clear attempt to get Monty to look at him. But Monty was vehemently ignoring Bellamy, the same way he was vehemently ignoring his feelings for Miller. “It just sucks. That you asked him to do that.”

“Put a bug on Miller?” Bellamy asked. 

“He’s our friend,” Monty said. Finally he turned to look at Bellamy. “He _used_ to be your Lieutenant.” A ghost of a smile graced Bellamy’s face at the memory, but it didn’t last. “It just feels wrong.”

“Well if he’s on the wrong side,” Bellamy murmured, “then we should know.” Monty’s eyebrows came together and he looked back to the radio. How insane was it for him to be wishing for the early days? When they only had themselves to rely on? When there wasn’t a war as terrible as this one? “They’re happy,” Bellamy said. “Miller and Bryan.”

“Not if they’re on different sides of a war,” Monty muttered. 

Bellamy sighed another time. “Miller’s smart. He’ll come around if he’s not already with us.” He shook his head slightly. “And that’s not what I meant, Monty, you _know_  what I meant.” Monty was staring at a blinking red light on the radio controls, trying to ignore this conversation. But Bellamy was right, and Monty hated it. “Miller’s…” 

“It’s fine, Bellamy,” Monty said quietly. “Really. I know how this works.” But again Bellamy sighed, reaching out and resting his hand on Monty’s shoulder. “What if he is?” Monty asked after a few moments pause. “On the wrong side?” There was a spike of fear in Monty’s stomach, knowing deep down that Miller would never side with Pike. Even after everything, Miller wouldn’t be on Pike’s side. Just like Monty’s shouldn’t be. Or Bellamy. “What then?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Bellamy said as he removed his hand. “You can’t warn him,” he told Monty. “Monty, I know you–”

“I won’t,” he stopped Bellamy. Because he _did_  want to warn Miller. Because if Miller was caught working with Kane it would be treason, which could be death. Because Miller deserved to know his _boyfriend_  had planted a bug on him. Because Monty cared too deeply about a boy who belonged to someone else. But he wouldn’t. “It’s fine. We’ll figure it out,” he said, echoing Bellamy’s words.

Bellamy nodded tersely before sighing one last time and moving to his feet. “Let me know if you hear anything,” Bellamy said, gesturing to the radio before walking away. 

After Bellamy was gone, Monty sunk down into the seat with a sigh of his own. Because in the end, it didn’t matter how he felt about Miller. Not if he didn’t feel the same. And not in the middle of a war. Monty fiddled with the knobs to lessen the sound of static and prepared to sit in and listen despite the heavy aching in his chest.


	17. you lose a lot of people

Both Monty and Miller had been drunk when the admission was made. They were nearly through a bottle of moonshine (which was _awful_ , considering Miller was such a damn lightweight when alcohol was involved), the two of them leaning on one another to keep themselves upright, when Miller suddenly wrapped his arm around Monty’s waist. 

“Green,” he slurred. The war had been over for a few weeks now, officially ended with the death of Pike, with the destruction of ALIE. With so many people dead, friends and family members, Monty’s _mom_ , the two had been getting drunk a lot. “You lose a lot of people.” 

“Hmm.” Monty draped his arm over Miller’s shoulder, tugging him closer. Miller was always warm. His body was warm. His hands were warm. His presence was warm. “So?” 

“You put yourself in stupid situations,” Miller added, his words still dragging out a little from the alcohol. Monty was sure this had a point somewhere, but when Miller got too drunk it was sometimes lost in translation. “You could get hurt.” 

“Nah,” Monty murmured. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Miller carried on. “I’m not going to let you get hurt.”

Monty smiled then, despite the subject. He reached down so he could pull Miller up to look at him. “You don’t have to protect me, Nate,” Monty told him when their eyes met.

Miller shook his head. “Too bad,” he said. His breath smelled like moonshine but his eyes were clear. “Because I’m always going to be there to protect you.” Monty’s smile widened and Miller matched it with one of his own. “Goddammit, Green,” he exhaled. “You’re so fucking cute.” 

Monty laughed, shaking his head slightly, and moved to stand. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get you to bed.”

—

Despite Miller’s promise of always being there to protect Monty, neither of them spoke on it. There was a stable peace anyway, nothing to protect anyone from, and they were both drunk when it was said anyway. Nothing to talk about. 

In fact, Monty didn’t think anything of it until a week later when Miller _literally_  threw himself in front of an arrow that was aimed at Monty.

There was a group of them hiking to a trading post at a nearby Grounder village when three men appeared out of nowhere. Without any warning they started firing, their arrows aimed at the group of Skaikru without any reason as to why. Octavia would later explain that they were rouge Grounders, upset with the treaty that had been arranged, but at the time they were nothing but nightmares. 

Monty wasn’t sure what happened really until there was a hoarse cry ( _“Monty, run!”_ ) and then a flash of black, and then Miller was crumpled on the ground in front of him. 

In the hours that followed, Miller working out the poison in his body from the arrow tip that had embedded itself in his shoulder in the med bay back in Arkadia, Monty couldn’t figure out what to say. Part of him was fuming, angry that Miller had done something so stupid. Another part of him terrified at where that arrow could’ve hit _him_.

Finally Monty marched up to his bedside. “You said I lose a lot of people,” he nearly snapped, his voice so sharp that Miller winced. “And then you throw yourself at death for me? Are you an idiot, or what!” 

Miller sunk down on his cot and let out a short breath. “Sometimes I just can’t control myself around you,” he murmured, his voice thick and raspy as though he needed something to drink. 

Monty’s resolve crumbled and he reached for Miller’s hand, lacing their fingers together tightly. “I don’t want you to get hurt either,” Monty said softly, thinking back to Miller’s words from their drunken night. “Okay?” 

Miller coughed to clear his throat and nodded weakly. “Okay.” 

Monty didn’t leave his bedside until he was discharged the next morning. Sometimes he couldn’t control himself around Miller, either.


	18. he's taking a break

It’s two years after the war has ended when Bellamy decides he needs to leave. He insists it’s temporary, that he’s coming back, but he wants to go alone. Octavia’s the first to protest (it took them so long to grow back together, so long to forgive) but Clarke’s the second, angry and confused at why he wants to leave. 

“You’re doing this to punish me,” she says, her voice cracking as she speaks. 

But he isn’t. Because that wasn’t what Bellamy does. He doesn’t  _do things_  to punish people. Miller understands why he needs to go. Bellamy has been holding everyone else together for so long. He’s had to repent for his mistakes without taking time alone. He’s had to help rebuild Arkadia under the mistrusting eyes of everyone around him. He’s never had time for himself. 

He has to leave. And he doesn’t want Clarke, or anyone else, to go with him. Because that isn’t what he needs. 

It’s a warm summer afternoon when Bellamy slings his backpack over his shoulders and says his goodbyes. He pulls Miller aside before he reaches Clarke and Octavia, both of them frustrated with Bellamy’s choice, and places his hands on his shoulders. 

“I’m going to Trishana,” he tells Miller lowly. A secret just for him. The Glowing Forest Clan. “If I’m not back in four months, you know where to look.” Miller nods once before pulling his friend into a hug. It’s quick and warm. But Miller trusts Bellamy, and he knows that he’ll be back.

–

“It’s just not something I could do,” Monty says that night from where he’s nestled into Miller’s side. His long fingers are tracing patterns across Miller’s chest as they lay together, tired from the “I-wish-he-didn’t-have-to-go” party that Raven strung together where all the delinquents got drunk on moonshine. “Pack up and leave?”

“I’d like to,” Miller admits. His eyes are closed but he opens them when Monty shifts, sitting up slightly. There’s a frown on his face and his dark eyebrows are pulled together. “All we’ve seen is Arkadia, places on the outskirts of Azgeda.” Miller shrugs, sitting up as well. “I want to see the ocean.” 

Monty still looks upset. He shakes his head slightly. “You’d leave everyone you know?” he challenges. 

“Well, no,” Miller responds with a frown of his own. “I never said that.”

“You said you’d leave.”

“I didn’t say I’d do it alone,” Miller says. Monty seems to ease a little. He reaches out then, curving his hand around Monty’s jaw and tugging him closer. “I could never leave you,” Miller murmurs gently, quietly frustrated that he even has to _say_  this. Monty should know how Miller feels by this point, he’s said it enough. “I love you too much.” 

Monty leans in so Miller can lower his forehead to his. “Sorry,” Monty exhales. “We’ve just lost so many people…”

“Bellamy’s not lost,” Miller reminds him. “He’s taking a break.” 

“Well I don’t want you to take a break,” Monty murmurs. 

Miller tips Monty’s chin back and closes the distance between them, kissing him softly. “I don’t need one,” Miller says. “Especially not from you.”

Monty murmurs his love for Miller against his lips, his hands gripping Miller’s shoulders to keep him from pulling back again.

–

Bellamy returns two weeks before his four month deadline. His skin is darker from the sun, his freckles dark across his cheeks, and his smile is brighter than Miller ever remembers seeing it. Clarke collides with him before anyone else gets the chance as though she hadn’t believed he was coming back, scared that he might find something better than home. 

The delinquents swarm him next, question after question pelted in his direction as they long to hear about his story. “I spent a lot of time on the beaches,” Bellamy tells them when he gets a chance.

Monty’s hand finds Miller’s and he squeezes once. “Want to take a trip?” Monty asks with a grin. 


	19. you said nate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: trash for secret dating AUs

“For the love of…” Bellamy trails off with a groan, scratching something out on the piece of paper that’s on the table in front of him. “Fucking Kane,” he mutters. Bellamy’s still working his way back up through the ranks after everything that happened with Pike went down and Kane’s had him on chore assignment duty ever since as he earns back his trust. “Anyone know if Briar Lyons is allergic to horses?” he asks the room with a sigh.

Miller smirks. He knows Bellamy’s got his head back on right but it’s still a little funny to watch him squirm as he gives the delinquents tasks to do around camp. 

“He’s from Agro,” Jasper offers, “so probably not. In fact I think I saw him over there the other day.”

“Horse duty it is,” Bellamy murmurs, filling in the boy’s name on the chart. “Miller,” Bellamy says, still looking down at his chart. “You good for dish duty again?”

Before Miller can even open his mouth, someone else is speaking. “Just put Nate on tech retrieval with me,” Monty calls from across the room, barely looking up from the device that he’s working on. Miller feels everyone in the room freeze, including himself though he’s trying his dammed hardest not to react. 

Finally Raven asks, “ _Nate_?” 

Monty looks up from his device. “What?” he asks.

“You said Nate,” Octavia points out. 

“No, I said…” Monty trails off, his eyes scanning the room until he finds Miller. Their eyes meet and Miller can feel a heat creeping up his neck. “I said Miller?”

“You definitely said Nate,” Clarke says. Again the room falls quiet. Quiet enough that they can hear the generator humming that keeps the lights on. “Since when does anyone call Miller _Nate_?” Clarke asks. Clarke was gone for the duration of time in which Miller was with still Bryan, who openly called him Nate considering _they were dating_ , but other people must pick up on the implication. Monty is uncharacteristically pale. 

“I’ll do whatever,” Miller finally calls out to Bellamy.

“Well I mean,” Bellamy starts awkwardly, “if you want to be with Monty, I can–”

“Whatever works,” Miller cuts him off, trying to redirect his attention back to the book in his hands. But the room is still quiet, the unasked question hanging in the air. _Why does Monty get to call him Nate? Why don’t we all call him Nate?_ Monty’s still pale, though he starts fiddling with his device again slowly. 

“Wait a minute,” Jasper finally says.

“ _Jasper_ ,” Raven stops him, clearly knowing where this is going. 

“Are you two–” he stands, looking between Miller and Monty (which is a bit of a hassle considering they’re literally all the way across the room from one another). “You are!” 

“Are what?” Clarke asks.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Bellamy sighs. 

“Crap,” Octavia mutters. “I _knew_  it was fishy when you two were always late for things together!”

“I’m confused. What is happening?” Clarke asks again, also looking between Monty and Miller. 

Miller sinks down into his chair more, still fighting off the red that’s creeping up his neck, and Monty is adamantly working on his device without even looking up. 

Raven sighs too, lifting one of her shoulders into a shrug. “Sorry, guys, I tried.” She looks toward Miller. “But you should know better than to keep secrets from _us_.” Miller lets out a huff of air as Clarke’s face lights up with realization and he looks to Monty who mouths _sorry_. 

Miller shrugs and offers his boyfriend a small smile. It was about time they told their friends, anyway.  


	20. please don't do this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was before we knew what happened with Monty's mom... I suffer

Miller’s hand tightened around Monty’s wrist, holding it as far away from Monty as he could manage. Balled in Monty’s fist was a key to the City of Light, a chip that had moments ago been inches from Monty’s lips, a one way ticket to suffering and false hope, and Miller walked in on him just in time. There had been a scuffle after that as Miller tried to pry it from his hands, desperate and terrified about what was going on inside Monty’s head, and now they were at a standstill. 

“You don’t understand,” Monty said evenly, too even for someone who had lost his mother by a stray bullet not even 24 hours before, “because you haven’t lost anyone.”

“I haven’t lost anyone?” Miller tossed back, not even able to keep the panic from his voice. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve lost just as many people as you have.” Monty’s face flickered with pain and Miller’s hand tightened again – he’d rip Monty’s arm off before he let him swallow that chip. “That shit tears people _apart_ ,” Miller tried to plead with him. “Look at Raven, Monty! She can’t even remember who Finn _was_!” 

Monty’s chin quivered before he whispered, “I don’t _want_  to remember.” 

 _You don’t get a fucking choice_ , Miller wanted to snap, but instead he begged. “Please don’t do this.” And then again, softer. “ _Please_.” 

Monty let out a short gasp before he crumbled against Miller, hot tears leaking from him as he fell against Miller’s chest, dropping the chip from his hand. Miller crushed it under the heel of his boot as he tugged Monty toward him, holding him as tightly as he could as he cried, too relieved to even breathe.


	21. wish you were here

“Miller?” The speaker fizzled and cracked in Miller’s hand, and he lifted it up at once. “You there?”

“I’m here,” he answered. He’d stepped outside the cave, knowing Monty’s nightly check-in was coming. It was too tense in there. Kane was still tending Bellamy’s wounds that had been caused by Octavia’s hands, Bryan was sleeping by the fire, Octavia had disappeared to find Indra. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Monty answered softly. “If anything it’s less tense here after…” he trailed off, and Miller sighed. It had been five days, and Miller’s heart still hurt. “I wish you guys were here,” he said. “Scratch that. I wish I was out there with you instead.”

Miller hesitated, ignoring the funny tug in his chest. “Me too,” he finally answered. “But it’s good you’re in there.”

“And it’s good you’re out there,” Monty responded. “It’s just… lonelier.” They were both quiet for a moment, and Miller fiddled with the grass on the ground in front of him. God, he wished Monty was out here too. “How’s… Bryan?” Monty finally asked.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Are you two–”

“I said I don’t want to talk about him,” Miller muttered. He glanced over his shoulder, into the cave where Bryan slept. 

Of course he loved Bryan. He couldn’t stop loving him in a day. And he knew… he knew that they’d be friends, once this was over. But knowing that Bryan had chosen Pike, _Pike!_ , over him for a time being… it was too much. It hurt. Miller lifted the talkie to his face and scratched his forehead with the antenna. Bryan had chosen him in the end, he _was_  outside the wall after all, but… 

And then there was Monty. God, the complete and utter relief that bloomed in Miller’s chest when he realized Monty was with _them…_ But how was it different than what Bryan had done? Why was Miller more willing to forgive Monty? 

 _Because we weren’t together,_ Miller thought to himself. _Because his mom steered him wrong. Because he’s_ Monty. 

“Remember that time,” Monty said suddenly, “when we were in Mount Weather.”

Miller rolled his eyes. “No, Monty. I completely forgot about that.”

There’s a bright laugh from Monty’s end of the walkie-talkie. “I wasn’t done,” he said, his voice still warm. “We were in Mount Weather, and we were sitting on those bunks. And we’d just…” Monty trails off, another little laugh in his voice. “We’d just stolen those blueprints?” 

Miller knew the memory well. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Mm. Yeah.” _You’re a great thief._ “Why?” 

“I think it was the first time I saw you smile,” Monty said. Miller’s heart stuttered in his chest. He knew no one was watching him but he tried to bite back his smile anyway, feeling an annoying warmth crawling up his neck. “You should smile more.” 

“Give me something to smile about,” Miller said. “And maybe I will.” 

“I can hear it in your voice,” Monty responded. Miller couldn’t stop his grin now and he knew his face was pink. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Monty said gently, and Miller could hear it in his voice too. And the fact that they could still smile, despite _everything_ , made Miller feel at ease. “Goodnight, Nate.” 

“Be safe,” Miller whispered back. He sat in the entrance of the cave for another few minutes, smiling all to himself. 


	22. you're being distracting

Monty huffed, setting down the radio in his hands and looking across the worktable to Miller who was currently worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He had a thick book in his hands and was nearly to the end of it, clearly at a place full of drama. They were books that he wanted Monty to read, something or other about a wizard that they found a few days back, but Monty had a harder time getting through books than Miller did.

“Oh, fuck,” Miller muttered, quickly turning the page. His eyebrows were pulled together as he scanned the words and Monty frowned again. “ _Fuck_.” 

“Nate,” Monty said. “Stop it.” 

Miller looked up, then looked down, then looked up again. “What?”

“The thing you’re doing,” Monty said, extending his hands. “Talking under your breath, or whatever.” Miller frowned and lowered the book slightly. “It’s–just stop it.”

“If you would read the books–or let me read them _to you_ –” he added when Monty’s eyes narrowed, “then you would _understand_.” Monty’s frown mimicked Miller’s and they held one another’s gaze a long time before Miller spoke again. “The rat’s a person, Monty.” 

“I don’t know what that means.”

Miller huffed this time, lowering the book completely. “So the one guy had a pet rat, remember? But it’s not a rat, it’s a _person_. A bad guy, actually, working for the _evil_ guy. Who killed the main guy’s parents!” Monty opened his mouth to respond but then closed it, shaking his head and looking back at the radio in his hands. “What’s _that_  look for?” Miller challenged, and Monty pursed his lips to stop himself from smiling. “Monty!”

“You’re cute,” Monty said. “You’re distracting and cute and I’m trying to be productive so can you–”

“Oh that’s the problem?” Miller cut him off, watching as Monty’s smile broke through anyway. “That I’m _cute_?” 

“It’s only a problem when I’m trying to get work done,” Monty said, stubbornly refusing to look up at him. “Like now.” Miller closed the book with a deafening _thump_  and Monty finally did look up. “Oh, Nate don’t–” Miller set the book down on the table before circling around to Monty’s side. The stools that they sat on made him tall enough so Miller could easily wrap his arms around Monty’s waist. 

“I can find so many more ways to be distracting,” Miller murmured against Monty’s ear before kissing the spot below. Monty let out a short gasp for air as Miller’s warm breath fanned his skin. “If you’d rather.” 

“Trying to get work done,” Monty reminded him. 

Miller tightened his hold on his boyfriend and kissed him another time. “Don’t call me cute,” he murmured. Monty laughed lightly then and he felt Miller smile against his neck. “I’m not cute,” Miller said, but his voice was bright. 

“You are,” Monty said, trying to focus on the wires in his hands and failing horribly. “Very, incredibly. Especially when you get into your…” he trailed off in a high voice as Miller kissed his neck again. “Books,” he finished breathlessly. 

Monty dropped the radio back to the table. He spun to face Miller, deciding that he’d changed his mind. Monty would rather be distracted. 


	23. quick, hold my hand

Getting drinks with Monty at the bar every Wednesday night sort of became part of a routine. Miller had guard duty most other nights, and when he wasn’t on duty he was asleep, so Wednesday was really his only free option. And after he and Bryan ended things there weren’t too many people other than Monty that Miller wanted to spend alone time with. 

It had been months since the war ended and it was so hard for Miller to find bright spots in his life these days. Monty was a bright spot. After all the death and the fighting, Monty was always so constant and unwavering in his warmth. And he like spending his Wednesday nights with Miller, too. 

They talked about stupid things. Things that didn’t matter. The weather. But also big things. The way Bellamy had started laughing again. Those moments when Octavia smiled. How Clarke and Raven stuck by one another’s side as though they were magnets. 

Everything with Monty was easy. 

It got complicated when some guy from Alpha started hitting on Monty. He was a year older than Miller and he was an asshole and Monty was too polite to tell him to leave. “It’s just,” Monty would say, “I’m here with my friend.”

“Maybe you can be here with me,” the guy said. “Some other night. Just you and me.”

“Maybe not,” Miller muttered. 

It was a damper to their Wednesdays, that was for sure. But the guy would wink at Monty and leave and Miller would throw back another shot to forget that someone was trying to be with Monty the way _he_ wanted to be with Monty, and the fact that Monty didn’t even really seem to mind. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks after the guy started did Miller take matters into his own hands. Literally. Which wasn’t fair, really. He should’ve asked Monty. But instead he said, “He’s coming over here,” and would reach for Monty’s hand. He’d lace their fingers together and Monty would tip his head forward slightly in approval, and they’d stay like that until Alpha Dude left. “Do you like him?” Miller asked one night after he was gone.

“I think I would’ve gone on a date with him by now if I liked him,” Monty responded. “I mean I don’t _hate_  him.”

“He creeps me out,” Miller muttered. 

“He’s nice to me,” Monty said. “But there’s someone else.” That made Miller’s heart sink, but, hey. Whatever. At least it wasn’t the guy from Alpha. 

Miller almost didn’t go to the bar the next Wednesday. It felt strange for him to be sitting close with Monty, soft voices as they shared stories about their days, if he was after someone else. But Miller was weak and he craved those moments with Monty, so he ended up at the bar sitting beside him anyway. 

Halfway through a story about something ridiculous Jasper had done Monty cut himself off saying, “Oh, there’s that creep. Quick.” He extended his hand out on the bar toward Miller. “Hold my hand again. Maybe he won’t come over here.” 

Without even hesitating Miller laced his fingers with Monty’s, squeezing once. God, it was so natural. The fact that Monty wanted someone _else_  was only a faint whisper in the back of Miller’s mind. Because _this_ felt right. Holding Monty’s hand. Their hands fit together wonderfully. 

Monty launched back into his story as though he hadn’t even stopped and Miller glanced over his shoulder, looking for the guy. “Monty,” Miller said, gently cutting him off. The bar wasn’t all that big. “That guy’s not even here.”

Monty was the epitome of innocence. “No? My bad.” Miller went to pull his hand back into his lap when Monty tightened his fingers, not letting him go. “ _Any_ way,” he hummed, starting his story again, and that’s when it clicked. 

The smile that bloomed on Miller’s face was embarrassingly large. Monty didn’t seem to mind. 


	24. learning to swim

Everything had happened so quickly. 

Harper had been on watch when Monty, Octavia, and Bellamy all returned. Kane was gone, Pike was gone, and so the group was headed back to Arkadia. And then on the hike the humvee appeared, Jasper at the wheel with Clarke in the passenger’s seat and an unconscious Raven in the back. 

And now they were in someone’s home–Niylah, Miller was pretty sure was the girl’s name–and Bellamy and Clarke were shouting. 

Miller wasn’t sure what time it was or where they were or even what was going on (he’d heard about the City of Light while they were in Arkadia but he was _immensely_ confused on the concept of an AI) so he stepped outside under the guise of keeping guard. He scrubbed his hand over his face as he listened to the familiar sound of Bellamy and Clarke arguing, and for a moment he pretended that they were back at the dropship. That things were bad, but not _this_  bad. 

The door to Niylah’s hut opened and Miller lifted his hands from his face to find Monty stepping outside. He gave Miller a look, a silent question as to if he could join him, and Miller tipped his head forward. Monty sunk onto the ground beside him with a sigh. 

“Feels familiar,” Monty said after a beat of silence between the two of them, “doesn’t it?” 

“Take me back,” Miller sighed, leaning back against the wall of the hut. “You talk to her?”

“Clarke?” Monty asked. “No. She’s pretty focused on Raven right now.” Monty sighed too and shook his head. “I just feel like I’m getting in the way in there, you know?” Miller nodded, and again they fell silent. Something like a smile tugged at Monty’s mouth. “Bryan’s a little, uh,” Monty turned to Miller, “out of his depths?” 

Miller snorted. The last time he saw Bryan was a few hours ago before he curled into a ball and fell asleep in the corner of the hut. “You’ve got that right,” Miller agreed. 

_“It’s not my fucking fault that you left, Clarke! Maybe if you’d been here you’d understand!”_

Monty sighed and Miller reached out, nudging him with his elbow. “I just want it to be over,” Monty said in a small voice. “I’m tired.” Miller leaned back against the wall and turned to look at Monty. _Me too_ , Miller thought. Miller just watched him, ignoring the shouting from inside that Octavia had joined in with, and tried to pretend again that they were at the dropship. “I think,” Monty said after another long pause, “that my mom turned me in.” 

“Hey,” Miller reached out at once as though he’d done it a hundred times before (he hadn’t–he’d never held Monty’s hand) and squeezed Monty’s fingertips. “You don’t have to think about that right now.” 

“She was the one who told me to go,” Monty carried on. “She told me to find my friends. I think she–I think she told Pike. And he said…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I thought Pike was going to kill me,” Monty rasped. He finally turned to look at Miller too and their eyes met. “I’m _tired_ ,” Monty said again, his voice shaking. “But I don’t want to die. I’m not ready to quit.”

“You better not be,” Miller murmured, squeezing his hand again. “We’re almost there.” 

“Where is _there_?” Monty asked. “Where do we _go_  from here? From massacres? From Monre’s death–Lincoln’s death? From _Artificial Intelligence_?” Miller shifted, moving himself closer to Monty against the wall they were sitting on. Their arms were pressed to each other tightly and Miller readjusted his hand so their fingers were laced. Part of him felt guilty, Bryan was inside _sleeping_ , but another part of him didn’t care. “What’s _next_?” 

“Jesus, Monty,” Miller said softly. “I don’t have an answer for you.” 

Monty let out a quiet laugh. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.” Monty tipped his head toward Miller again and because they were closer Miller could feel Monty’s warm breath in the cool night. The shouting from inside had tampered down, quiet enough that Miller couldn’t make out the words anymore. “Make something up, then,” Monty whispered. “Make up the next.” 

Miller tried to stop himself from smiling. “Okay,” he said. Miller thought for a minute. “We go east. Find Luna, like Clarke wants.” Monty nodded. His hair was long enough, or maybe it was just that they were close enough, that Monty’s bangs brushed Miller’s forehead. “We hang out on the beach. All of us.” A smile found Monty’s face at that. “I learn how to surf,” he says, “because I really want to learn how to do that.”

“Oh yeah?” Monty asked with laughter in his voice, and Miller nodded.

“Yeah. We all learn how to swim.” Miller started rubbing his thumb across Monty’s wrist. “Bellamy and Octavia, they work out their shit. And Clarke doesn’t leave again. And Jasper and you really get a chance to talk. And Raven’s okay. And we just _learn_ how to _swim_.” 

Monty let out a soft sigh. “What else?”

“We find Murphy along the way,” Miller mused, “but he’s different now. Not so much of an ass, still a sarcastic piece of shit though.” Again Monty laughed. “And Luna, she’s badass. And she gets us off this continent and we go to Europe.” Monty laughed again, and Miller reveled in the sound. “Leave all this behind. Start again.”

Monty’s voice was so quiet when he said, “I like that.” 

“Me too,” Miller whispered back. 

Again they were quiet. But finally Monty asked, “Bryan?”

Miller’s heart twisted. He was still holding Monty’s hand. “Out of his depths,” Miller repeated from earlier. “If he can’t handle all of _this_  there’s no way he’s going to be able to handle _Murphy_.” Monty smiled, but it was a sad sort of smile. “I don’t know,” Miller finally admitted. “In my head…” he trailed off. He took a deep breath. “In my head, Bryan’s not there. It’s just us.”

“The delinquents,” Monty prompted. 

Right. “Yeah.” The delinquents. Monty’s fingers eased slightly and Miller knew what that meant. He pulled his hand back into his lap. “We should get back in,” Miller said, angry with himself that his voice was thick. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. The war wasn’t supposed to be this way, and his feelings for Monty weren’t supposed to be this way, and none of it was supposed to be this way. He missed his friends. He missed when he got to be a teenager. “See if we can help.” 

Miller pushed himself to his feet before extending his hand to Monty, pulling him up as well. Before they reached the door Monty stopped him. “Nate,” he said gently, and Miller felt that tug at his heart again. “I hope we make it to the ocean.” 

“Me too,” Miller whispered back. 


	25. we've always been complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which that scene at the dropship went down a little differently

Monty was never very good at Earth Skills. 

He should’ve known that he was being followed, but Pike was the literal professor of Earth Skills and if he wanted to stay hidden he was going to stay hidden. Monty listened for footsteps but his heart was beating so loudly in his ears it wasn’t a surprise when he was apprehended. 

“You’re going to stay quiet,” Pike told him as he tied up Monty’s wrists. “Only come out when they call for you. And don’t say a damn thing, you understand?” 

“No,” Monty admitted weakly. He couldn’t look Pike in the eye. “How did you find out?” 

“How else?” Pike asked. “Your mother told me.” 

–

Caught between fearing his own death (he thought if he had to go out he wouldn’t be so _scared_ ) and the overwhelming darkness that came with knowing his mother betrayed him, Monty was scared. He was scared of what was going to happen next. If he made it back to Arkadia then he couldn’t trust his mother, he couldn’t go home. And if he didn’t… he’d probably be dead. 

He wasn’t ready to die. There was still so much he wanted to do.

Seeing Octavia and Kane and Bellamy just made it worse. Monty was so goddamn scared. Bellamy looked as though he’d been through the ringer and Kane had a gun and it was just them. The three of them. And Monty knew that Pike had backup.

When the first shot fired there was a cry from one of Pike’s men. And another shot, another one of Pike’s men.

“You really think we’d come alone?” Octavia sneered. 

–

Pike was taken down with a shot through the shoulder from Miller while Harper covered his back. Monty didn’t have to ask to know that the other guards were dead. Miller and Harper were both trained. They were both good shots. 

Pike was apprehended just as quickly as Monty had been and Kane made a comment about taking him to the Grounders. Harper ran toward Monty, dropping her gun and throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. Bellamy gave him a long glance that was filled with a soft amount of hope. 

And then there was Miller. 

Monty threw himself at the boy he’d risked his life for, desperate for a chance to touch him. “You okay?” Miller rasped and Monty nodded, partly filled with relief that he _was_  okay but also astounded that Miller cared again. That they were okay again. “Jesus, Monty,” Miller said as he pulled back, “don’t–”

Monty tipped his chin backwards, his mind still running a thousand miles a minute, and kissed Miller on the mouth. And just as soon as he’d done it Monty pulled back, an apology already on the tip of his tongue. “Sorry,” he breathed. But he was dead. He was almost dead and he couldn’t die without knowing just once… “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s…” Miller trailed off, his eyes darkening slightly. “It’s okay.” His hand lifted to cup Monty’s cheek, either unaware that everyone was staring or uncaring to the fact. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

–

Kane, Octavia, and Bellamy were taking Pike to the Grounders, so it was just Monty and Harper and Miller that were heading back to the cave. Harper kept her distance, walking ahead of them so they could talk. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Monty said as they walked. “It wasn’t fair. Because I know you’re with him.” 

Miller tipped his head forward into a nod. “I _am_ with him,” Miller confirmed softly. “But that doesn’t mean…” he trailed off, looking to Monty. “When I saw he had a gun to your head,” Miller said, changing the subject slightly, “I couldn’t think.” He turned to look at Monty. “I’m with him,” Miller said again, “but there’s something here, too, and…” Miller trailed off another time, unsure of where to go. 

“I’m sorry,” Monty said again. But his heart was humming. There was hope that maybe, maybe, maybe. “I didn’t mean to make it complicated.”

“You saved my life,” Miller said. “And I saved yours. And it’s–we’ve always been complicated.” Monty smiled a little at that, still feeling guilty but also feeling so _alive_. “That’s not who I am,” Miller finally said. “I’m not unfaithful.”

“I know.”

“Then you know that until I’m not with him, I can’t… _we_  can’t…” Miller said, and Monty nodded. 

Monty was sure that he was going to die, but he was still alive. He could wait for Miller if he needed to.


	26. ALIE vs Miller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which Miller had a round with ALIE too

Raven wasn’t struggling against her binds anymore, but her eyes were watching Miller from where he stood in the corner of the room. It was his turn for watch and he was tired, but he’d had enough of Raven/ALIE tearing Bellamy and Clarke and Jasper to pieces. He’d decided to step in. 

But Raven had that smile on her face, that cruel and knowing smile that wasn’t Raven at all, and Miller couldn’t help but feel tense. He didn’t have many secrets, despite being a private person, and ALIE didn’t scare him. But still, with that look in her eyes…

“Your dad’s in here,” Raven said casually, finally breaking the silence in my room.

“Oh, finally my turn, then?” Miller asked. “Go ahead,” he said, gesturing forward. “Mention my mom–floated. The guilt that comes with that. Raven knows it well, if you’d let her remember it.” Miller shrugged a shoulder. “Mention the disappointment that my dad has that comes with having a thief for a son,” he carried on. “Hit me, ALIE. I’m waiting.” 

Raven cocked her head to the side. “He loves you,” she told him. “And you _know_  that he does.” Miller tipped his chin back. “I mean, he switched sides for you, after all.” He tried to keep his face neutral, but what was she talking about? There was a twisting pain in his stomach at the thought that his father had taken the chip, but that was a problem for another time. Still, David hadn’t switched sides. “But you don’t love _him…”_ Raven said lowly, shaking her head slowly. “It’s so sad to watch.”

Miller frowned. “What the hell are you–”

“Bryan,” she answered. Miller stood a little taller, and that cruel smile on her face grew. “There it is,” Raven said. “It’s so sad, you know? Being torn apart from someone you love. And then you move on. Everyone _knows_ you moved on Miller. Even your _dad_  saw it. But then… you found Bryan. And he’s still here.” Raven’s eyes flickered to the door. “Keeping watch, like you asked. He’d do _anything_ for you. Because he loves you.”

“Oh, go _float_  yourself, ALIE,” Miller muttered. 

“But so does _Monty_.” Miller shifted on his feet, casting his eyes to the door again. Monty and Octavia had left in the rover a little bit ago but these walls weren’t that thin. Anyone in the other room could listen if they wanted to. “And you love _him,_ and it’s just so damn _sad_.” 

Miller forced the best smirk to his face that he could manage. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. 

“ _Something won’t let me make love to you_ …” Raven hummed, and Miller felt his stomach drop. He clenched his teeth and held her gaze. “It’s pathetic,” she said. “You’re a goddamn coward.” Miller shook his head at her but she just kept going. “Too scared to break someone’s heart so you’re breaking your own. Lying through your teeth to keep the two of you together, but you’re already _ruined_.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Raven’s grin widened. “And Monty–oh,” she paused, her eyebrows coming together. “Oh, no, he’s going to need someone…” she trailed off cryptically, blinking a few times. “But you can’t comfort him,” she said, “not the way you want to.” 

A flare of panic sparked in Miller’s chest. “What do you mean he’s going to need someone?” he snapped. 

“Shitty thief,” Raven continued, ignoring him. “Shitty guard, shitty boyfriend.” She shook her head. “What are you _good_ at, Miller?” she asked. “Who’ve you saved?” Raven’s questions hung in the air, and Miller felt them in his bones. “How can you even call yourself one of us?” 

Miller took a deep breath and forced the anger out of him. He’d done his part. He’d helped in this war. He knew that. Of course he was one of them. 

“Shitty AI,” he tossed back, his voice low. “I can’t _wait_ to watch you fry.” 

He settled back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Raven tipped her head back at him, that cruel smile still on her face. But there was nothing else to say. 


	27. we just keep going

Miller had been watching Monty from the corner of his eye ever since he’d found out what had happened. Octavia gave him the gritty details of what Monty had to do, and Miller was worried. Miller was worried out of his fucking mind. 

Monty had hardly reacted to what he’d done. 

The second they were back in Arkadia, a shitty, abandoned ghost town, Monty veered off on his own. “Stay with Harper,” Miller said to Bryan shortly before hurrying in Monty’s direction. He was shorter than Miller but had purposeful strides, taking him into the remnants of the Ark without looking back. “Monty! Wait up!” With a quick glance over his shoulder to see who’d called out for him Monty quickly sped up. “ _Hey_!” 

Miller moved into a jog before finally catching up to Monty, their strides matching as they turned down a hallway. “I’m fine,” Monty said shortly.

“I didn’t ask,” Miller muttered back. He listened as Monty sighed, eventually slowing down so they weren’t speed-walking. “And no you’re not,” he finally added after a beat of silence. Monty opened his mouth like he was going to say something but Miller shook his head. “Save me the bullshit, yeah?“ 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Monty said, his voice giving away at the end.

“Good thing I didn’t ask you to talk about it then,” Miller said. “But there’s no way in hell I’m letting you roam Arkadia alone. Okay?” Monty sighed another time, but he didn’t protest. They just fell into step beside one another, moving down the dark corridors. “Where’re we going, anyway?”

Monty didn’t answer. He made another turn and pushed open a door, striding into an empty room as though he’d done it often. Miller realized a beat too late where they were. Monty’s quarters. That he shared with his mom. 

Miller lingered by the door as Monty went for the small table beside the larger bed, his mother’s bed. He dug around for a bit before pulling out a small, faded photo. The moment it was in his hands he lowered himself to the edge of the bed, all of his attention on the photograph he was holding. Miller watched as Monty’s eyes filled with tears, watched as he blinked hard to chase those tears away, watched as Monty clenched his teeth together to keep from crying out.

“You want to talk about it yet?” Miller asked kindly. 

A tear dripped down Monty’s cheek. He sniffled. “I don’t know,” he responded weakly. Miller pushed himself off the wall and strode toward Monty, lowering himself on the bed beside Monty. “We could’ve saved her,” Monty croaked. “She–she…” he sucked in a sharp breath, trying to swallow a sob he couldn’t contain. And then Monty shattered. Tears flooded from his eyes and he crumbled in on himself, choking back cries so painful that Miller could feel them in his stomach.

“Hey, hey.” He reached out for Monty, gently placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Monty leaned into his touch and Miller stretched then, pulling him closer. “You’re okay,” he murmured. “You’re okay.” 

“ _I did this_ ,” Monty cried, turning into Miller’s side. Hot tears leaked through Miller’s shirt and he tugged Monty closer still, his hand moving reassuringly across Monty’s back. “How do I–how am I supposed to…” _live with myself?_

One of Miller’s hands found the back of Monty’s head, carefully brushing through his dark hair as soothingly as he could. “You’ve got us,” Miller reminded him. “It’s not–we’re not a lot. But you’ve always got us.” 

Monty was still shaking, still crying, but Miller wasn’t going anywhere. He was talking again, his words muffled through his shirt and strangled by his agony, and it took Miller a moment too long to realize that Monty was apologizing. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,_ again and again and again. 

“Shhh.” Miller shifted on the bed, allowing Monty to fall against his chest. “I’m here. It’s okay.” Monty was hiccuping for air. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

It was another few minutes before Monty pulled away from him. Miller’s shirt was darker from Monty’s tears but he didn’t mind, not for a second. Monty sniffed loudly as he sat up again, the photo he’d pulled from the drawer still in his hand. Miller reached up and brushed under one of Monty’s eyes, collecting tears that hadn’t quite fallen. 

“Okay?” Miller asked. 

Monty sniffled again. “I don’t know,” he said again. He shook his head, his eyes still wet. “I don’t think so.”

Miller swung his arm over Monty’s shoulder and tugged him toward his side. “That’s okay,” Miller told him. “I’d be worried if you were.” They sat like that, quietly, side by side, for another few minutes. “We just have to keep going,” Miller told him, finally getting a glimpse of the photo that Monty retrieved. It was from the Ark, of Monty and his mother and father, all smiling brightly. “That’s all we can do. Is just keep going.” 

“I’m so tired,” Monty said quietly. Miller sighed, but nodded his head. So was he. “But you’re right. We just… keep going.” 

“All of us,” Miller reminded him. The delinquents. Together again. “We’ll… we’ll figure it out.” 

“I want to believe you so _badly_ ,” Monty whispered. 

“Then do it,” Miller urged. They were broken, all of them. All of them had been broken. But they could keep going and they could figure it out. _They had to_. “One day at a time, Monty.” 

Monty took a breath so deep that Miller shifted with him, his arm still over his shoulder. “We should find the others,” Monty said. He stood, stepping out of Miller’s arm, but offered a hand to him when he was on his feet. He sniffled another time and his eyes were rimmed with red, but he didn’t look like he was ready to run. Miller accepted Monty’s hand and pulled himself to stand as well. “Thank you,” Monty murmured.

“Not necessary,” Miller murmured back. “I’m always here for you.”

They went to join their friends together. 


	28. staring contest, go!

The first time Monty catches Miller staring at him, Miller’s on guard duty. He’s by the gate with a gun in his hand standing tall and Monty’s by the horses. He went out to find Octavia but she was nowhere around (probably off with Lincoln somewhere else considering her horse was gone) and Monty lingered with the animals. He’d never learned to ride one (there was no need considering they had the rover) but he hoped that maybe one day, after the wars were officially resolved, after peace was officially set up, he’d have that chance. He’d just been startled by a whinnying horse when he turned, finding Miller posed by the gate with a smirk on his face, watching Monty.

After patting the horse gently on the side Monty made his way across Arkadia to Miller. “Have fun at the petting zoo?” Miller asked with a grin as Monty approached.

Monty rolled his eyes. “I was looking for Octavia,” he said. “You can’t just _leave_ the horses without petting them. It’s inhumane.”

Miller snorted. “Sure.” He looked back to the fence. “She and Lincoln went with Indra to Trikru base to talk more peace negotiations,” Miller told him. “Probably won’t be back until late.” He turned back to Monty and their eyes met, and not for the first time was Monty so thrown with the intensity of Miller’s gaze. Monty held his stare for a few seconds before feeling his face grow warm and looking down to the ground, then back to the fence as well.

* * *

Miller couldn’t help but stare at Monty. There was something about his face that was mesmerizing that Miller was trying to figure out. He liked the subtle quirk of Monty’s lips when he found something funny but knew it was impolite to laugh. He liked the way Monty’s eyes lit up when something fascinated him or something worked out in his favor. He liked the way his eyebrows just barely pulled together when he was confused and unsure. Miller really liked Monty’s mouth, pink and probably warm, with really kissable lips.

It was bad. Miller knew it was bad. And probably weird, to stare at his friend. But Monty was more than a friend, it seemed. Not quite something else, but more than a friend.

There’d been something there for a while now, during the war, and maybe even a little something when they were at Mount Weather. But Miller had Bryan and Miller was loyal, and he really hoped that even after everything they’d been through that he’d be able to salvage his relationship with his boyfriend. But when the war ended they were two boys broken in different ways. Their pieces didn’t match up anymore.

But Monty…

From across the cafeteria Monty definitely noticed that Miller was staring. His eyes narrowed slightly and his mouth curved into a soft smile, the kind of smile was as though they were sharing a secret without even speaking, the kind of smile that made Miller’s chest warm. And Monty held his gaze. It was a challenging stare that Monty was giving him, like he was daring him to look away.

But Miller could stare at Monty for hours.

Monty blinked and frowned, and he groaned so audibly that Miller could hear him from across the cafeteria. “What are you doing?” Bellamy asked from Miller’s right, his eyes shifting to Monty groaning and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Staring contest?” he asked.

Miller smirked. “Something like that, I guess.”

* * *

“Do you think it’s intentional?” Jasper asked as he stretched out on his bed. After the City of Light fiasco had finally ended both Jasper and Monty apologized profusely after drinking an entire bottle of moonshine and crying in each other’s arms. It turned out that Monty and Jasper struggled to function when they were apart for too long. Jasper moved into Monty’s quarters after that, two small cots on opposite sides of the room that they made their home. “Miller staring at you?”

“God, I don’t know,” Monty answered, stretching out on his own bed. He turned so he could face his friend across the room. “It’s weird, yeah?”

“What, that Miller— _Nathan Miller_ —makes heart-eyes at you on the daily?” Jasper asked. He laughed. “It’s weird he even knows how to make heart-eyes. He’s such an asshole.”

“He’s _not_ ,” Monty insisted. But the staring—definitely weird. Okay maybe not _weird_ , but certainly _something_. Monty turned again to face the ceiling. “Do you think he’s…” Monty trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject.

Jasper had _always_ been quick to talk about the girl he’d been crushing on. Back on the Ark it changed week to week, strangers he only saw in the hallways and girls who were talented at mechanics, people out of his league. But Monty had always been hesitant. First it had been the fact that he liked boys, which was something Jasper just couldn’t related to (though he _loved_ egging Monty on anyway and trying to find out all of the details), but then it was just because Monty wasn’t _good_ at that. Talking about his feelings.

“Do I think he’s into you?” Jasper asked, filling in Monty’s silence. “Oh, definitely, man.” Monty scoffed, and Jasper laughed. “C’mon, Monty. You’re the only one who can _ever_ get the dude to smile. And you call him Nate. When has he ever let anyone other than his dad—or his ex-boyfriend—call him that?”

“Nah, that’s not—”

“Ugh,” Jasper groaned, chucking his pillow across the room and hitting Monty square in the face with a _thoomp_. “Stop that!” Monty frowned, yanking the pillow from his face. “Do you like him?” Monty wrinkled his nose in response, sitting up and moving the pillow to his lap. Jasper had propped himself up on his elbow so he could look across the room at his friend. “Well _that’s_ a yes,” Jasper said with a grin. Monty ducked his head and stared down at his hands. “C’mon, Monty,” Jasper laughed a little. “He’s single now.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Jasper asked, the teasing in his voice slowly easing away. Beneath the jokes and the laughter, Jasper really did care. “If you’re into him, and he’s into you, I don’t see the issue.”

Monty tapped his fingers across the pillow on his lap. “I don’t know,” Monty murmured. “He’s… _him_ , you know?” Nathan Miller, chief guard’s son. Confident and attractive and passionate. A lightweight when it came to alcohol. Broody and angry on the outside but… soft, really. Monty had seen him with Bryan when they were together. Miller was supportive and caring when he wanted to be. “Could you see it?”

“What, you and him?” Jasper asked, and Monty nodded slightly. “He’s already in _love_ with you, so yeah.”

“He’s _not_!” Monty insisted to Jasper’s grin. “I’m serious, Jasper!”

“So am I!” Monty finally slings the pillow back in Jasper’s direction and he catches it, still grinning. “You, my dear friend,” Jasper said as he set the pillow in his lap, “are the whole package. Miller, well, I still think he’s an asshole.” Monty smiled at that, shaking his head at his friend. “But if you’re into him, he’d be a damn idiot to not be into you. Which is clearly untrue, considering he’s _in love with you_.”

“You’re not helpful,” Monty said with a laugh.

* * *

The staring contests began almost daily.

Neither Monty nor Miller spoke about them, which was good, because Miller would have to admit that he wasn’t interested in staring contests but rather the boy he was having them with. Monty always looked so determined when their eyes caught from across the room. His eyebrows would arch before his eyes narrowed. He’d set his jaw. He’d put all of his energy into holding Miller’s gaze for as long as he could. Monty always lost, but man, he tried.

Miller always knew right when he was about to win because Monty’s eyes would water before snapping shut, and then a frustrated groan would fill the room from Monty. And Miller would go about his day, feeling lighter than before. They happened everywhere, those stupid staring contests. In the cafeteria, in the hangar, by the campfire. And Miller _always won._

“You should give him a break,” Bellamy said one afternoon with a laugh as Monty marched away with a frown. “Let him win, once.”

Miller scoffed. “Have you _met_ me?” Miller asked. “I don’t let people win.”

“Not even Monty?” Bellamy asked. There was something playful in his voice that Miller didn’t like. He arched an eyebrow at his friend and Bellamy shrugged. “Just imagine how happy he’d be.” That was a compelling argument, to be honest. Miller liked when Monty was happy. He liked that a lot. “Think about it,” Bellamy hummed.

* * *

It was another week or so until their next staring contest, and this one wasn’t as much of an accident as the others.

Miller was in the delinquents’ hangar reading a book in the quiet when he heard footsteps. He looked up to find Monty entering and before he could look back down Monty’s voice filled the air.

“Staring contest!” Monty shouted. “Go!”

Miller was caught off guard, and that’s probably what Monty was going for. He held Monty’s gaze as he fumbled for his bookmark on the table before slipping it between the pages, closing his book so he could focus all of his attention on the boy across the room from him. “You’re hopeless, Green,” Miller said. He was seated on a stool by one of the work table and Monty slowly stepped forward, holding the stare. “I don’t lose.”

“Nathan Miller,” Monty said, waving his hand, “good at everything. Yeah, yeah.” Monty was closer now, closer with every step, and there was something brilliant in his eyes that Miller didn’t normally get a chance to study. Typically they were so far away from one another when they had their staring contests that Miller didn’t get pulled into Monty’s eyes, but now he was close and Miller was weak. Monty’s eyes were dark brown and brilliant and never had Miller gotten to look for so long this close. Monty was the smartest person Miller knew and that was reflected in his gaze, somehow, like there were gears constantly turning in his mind. “I’ve been practicing,” Monty said, unknowing the way Miller’s chest was growing warm by looking at the boy in front of him. “Octavia’s a decent opponent. Raven’s a little harder, you know,” Monty said, alluding to the fact that Raven had been a little numb since the City of Light connection had been broken. “But no one’s as good as you.”

“Why do you need to win a staring contest?” Miller asked.

“I don’t need to win just _any_ staring contest,” Monty said as he squared his shoulders a little. “I need to win a staring contest against _you_.”

“Why?” Miller asked again.

Monty popped one of his shoulders into a shrug. “You’re the only one I ever lose to.” Miller smirked then, and Monty’s eyes darted to his mouth.

“You’re going to lose this time too,” Miller said.

“I don’t know about that,” Monty said. Again he took a step closer, his hands darting out so he didn’t run into anything. “You stare at me a lot, you know,” Monty said as he strode around the table. His words weren’t  loud, exactly, but they filled the empty hangar and Miller let the truth of them wash over him. Because he did. Miller _did_ stare at Monty a lot. He was just surprised that Monty realized it, that maybe he’d known this whole time. It wasn’t like Miller had staring contests with anyone else. Monty didn’t speak again as though he was waiting for Miller to confirm or deny this, so finally Miller shrugged his shoulders. “You like my face that much?” Monty asked, his voice hinging on teasing.

“Maybe,” Miller admitted.

It was clear by the way Monty’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly that he didn’t expect that answer. But he was still holding Miller’s gaze, their staring contest still underway. Miller watched as Monty’s mouth curved upwards slightly. “Care to elaborate?” Monty asked.

“Not really.”

But Monty was still smiling, as though suddenly everything made sense. He took a step in Miller’s direction not daring to break their gaze. This moment felt significant, like something was going to happen that Miller couldn’t walk away from no matter the feeling that bubbled in his stomach. Fear, perhaps. Or nerves. Maybe excitement. The way he felt about Monty… he hadn’t felt that way about someone for a long time. Not since he was with Bryan on the Ark. Whatever had been on earth with Miller’s ex-boyfriend had been a shadow of what it once was.

But with Monty…

“I don’t look at you enough,” Monty said, filling in the silence. His smile was still there but it was faint, as though he was distracted. His eyes shifted away from Miller’s gaze but still on Miller’s face, as though he was studying him. “You have the longest eyelashes I think I’ve ever seen,” Monty said playfully. Miller couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes softly then (he couldn’t blink–not now), finding Monty smiling much brighter in the moments after. Their staring contest resumed but there was something else now. It was less of the competition that Monty had begun when he’d walked in and more… important. “Nathan,” Monty said lowly, again taking another step. Miller’s eyes were still looking into Monty’s. “I think I’m winning,” Monty said.

Miller’s eyebrows twitched. “What?”

“Staring contest,” Monty reminded him, taking another step closer.

“Right.”

Monty was close now, only steps away, and with every foot he moved closer Miller felt his chest getting tighter. God, he was cute. It was getting increasingly harder for Miller to hold Monty’s gaze, considering all he wanted to do was stare at his mouth. As if knowing the temptation was there Monty licked his lips and Miller couldn’t even try not to watch. And then he licked his lips too, wondering what Monty’s mouth tasted like.

And then Monty was there, inches away from where Miller was seated on the stool.

And then he was kissing him.

Miller’s eyes flew shut as his hands reached out, pulling Monty toward him and moving his mouth in response to Monty’s perfect lips. Monty exhales into Miller’s mouth and then pulls back, a breathy laugh escaping him before he leans in again. And then they’re kissing, kissing, kissing like there was never any stupid contest to begin with. Like Monty had walked in here with the sole purpose of kissing Miller, and—wait a second.

“Monty,” Miller pulled back. Because he was still sitting on the stool and Monty was standing he had to look up at the boy who was grinning. “What…”

“I win,” Monty breathed, his breath warm against Miller’s lips.

Miller blinked a few times before rolling his eyes. “Cheater,” Miller murmured back, tugging him closer yet again.

* * *

If Monty thought that staring contests with Nathan Miller were fun, then he didn’t know how to describe kissing Nathan Miller. It was more than fun, more than enjoyable, more than warm.

Hell, he could spend the rest of his life like this.

They were in Monty’s room now, Monty pinned down on the mattress as Miller nips at his chin and then across Monty’s neck. “How long?” Miller exhaled. Monty was too focused on the way Miller’s hips were rocking into his that it took a minute for the words to come through. “Have you…” he trailed off, hoping for Monty to pick up in the silence.

“Wanted you?” Monty breathed. “How long have we been having staring contests?” he asked. Miller pulled back then, something darker in his eyes.

“Only since then?” Miller asked.

Monty thought for a moment and shook his head. “Okay, no. Longer. But I… I guess I didn’t think about it until recently.” Miller waited for him to elaborate. “You were with Bryan. And we were fighting a war. And it was easier to not think about it, I guess. And then Jasper said you had heart-eyes, and—” Miller scoffed, cutting him off, and Monty grinned again. “Don’t make that noise,” Monty said with a laugh. “You totally do.”

“Don’t.”

“You _do_ ,” Monty insisted.

Miller leaned in, kissing him again. “Do _not_ ,” he murmured against Monty’s lips.

“You’ve been staring at me for weeks,” Monty forced out between more kisses. “I think I’d know.”

Miller propped himself up on his elbows so he could pull back and look at Monty. Part of Monty wanted to arch his back, steal another kiss, but Miller was looking at him with those damn heart-eyes again. So warm and intentional that Monty felt his heart melting in his chest.

“Fine,” Miller said, shaking his head slightly as a smile tugged on his mouth. “But I only have them for you.”

“That,” Monty said, finally arching his back so he could reach Miller’s lips again, “is something we can agree on.”


	29. light city

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where the citys are light and the lights are city  
> (312 spoilers kinda)

Bryan sat up in a rush as he gasped for air. Miller, from his spot on the couch, looked over his shoulder at him as he rubbed his eyes. “You okay?” Miller asked, his voice small in the large empty room. Bryan responded by shaking his head. “Want to talk about it?”

“No I don’t want to talk about it,” Bryan muttered. He shot Miller a glare and Miller looked down. “It’s just more of the same.” 

More nightmares. More thoughts of final breaths from their time in the airlock. Miller let out a long breath as Bryan continued to rub his eyes, not knowing what to say. It had been a week and he’d run out of things to say.

First it was _I’m sorry you had to be part of that_. Then it was _You don’t understand what it was like in Mount Weather_. And after that it was silence. 

“How can you be okay?” Bryan asked, his voice sharp. “How can you just _be okay_?” 

“It’s over,” Miller said. “It happened, it’s over. We’re alive. We move on.” Bryan let out an angry breath and Miller turned to look at him. “What do you want me to say?” he asked. “That I’m scared?” Miller wondered. “Because I’m not.”

“Jesus, Nate.” Bryan was still rubbing at his eyes. “We could’ve died.”

“But we didn’t!”

“I just don’t understand how you can just forget that it happened,” Bryan said. “I mean, I’ve been through some shit too. But–” Miller let out a mix between a scoff and a laugh, and Bryan stopped. “What–is that funny to you?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Miller said. “It is. You’ve been through some shit too.” Miller shook his head, readjusting himself on the couch. “Welcome to the ground, Bryan.” 

“ _Nate_ , don’t you dare–”

“What?” he snapped, turning around. “What! Don’t I dare what?” Miller’s voice was raising. “You had people protect you, Bryan,” Miller bit out. “You had people fighting to cover your ass! I’ve been saving myself this whole fucking time! You lost people? So have I! Welcome to the fucking club! You almost lost your life? Me _too_. The difference is that _I’m fucking over it_!” 

Miller swung his legs over the couch. “Nate,” Bryan tried tiredly. “That’s not what I–”

“Forget it,” Miller snapped, staring for the door. “I’ll be back later.” He heard Bryan sigh another time but then he was gone, the door to their quarters shutting loudly. He’d barely taken two steps out when a shadow caught his eye. “Jesus Christ,” Miller muttered, pausing when Monty shifted in the hallway. “What are you _doing_?” he snapped.

“I–sorry,” Monty murmured. “I was coming to find you and I heard…” he trailed off, his eyes darting somewhere else. He’d heard Miller and Bryan’s fight. Hell, Arkadia was abandoned. They could’ve been across the entire camp and Monty still would’ve heard it, echoing in the emptiness. “I didn’t want to interrupt. Sorry.”

“Nothing to interrupt,” Miller muttered. “What do you need?” 

Monty shrugged a little. “To bounce ideas off of you?” he asked. “If you want. I just.” Monty shrugged again. “It’s quiet.”

“C’mon,” Miller said, tipping his head. “Let’s go sit down.”

* * *

Bouncing ideas back and forth with Monty was one of the best stress relievers Miller had come to know. It had been a while since he’d actually got to sit down with Monty and talk to him, and laughing with him about the impossibilities of AI reminded him of those nights in Mount Weather when they sat side by side and pretended they were somewhere else. 

He missed Monty. He really missed Monty’s laugh. Now he had them both back.

“It’s just ridiculous,” Miller said from the couch he was stretched out on. They’d moved to a common area, taking advantage of the empty space and trying to make it feel less empty. “We were only in space for 97 years. How could all knowledge of technology be lost like that?” 

Monty laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe the Grounders were scared ALIE was going to strike again, or something.” 

“It just blows my mind,” Miller continued. “There could be Grounders out there with cell phones. Or internet. Watching Star Trek online, or something.”

Monty laughed again and Miller reveled in the sound, bright and warm and free of any worries. “Maybe that’s what we should be spending our time on,” Monty said, a smile in his voice. “Rewiring the internet. Not this City of Light, stuff.” 

Miller’s smile slipped from his face. “City of Light stuff’s important to you, though,” he said. Monty tipped his head to look at Miller, their eyes meeting. “With your mom.”

Monty’s face fell. “I know you think it’s stupid,” he said. 

“I don’t think it’s stupid.”

“Yes you do, Miller,” Monty murmured, his eyebrows colliding. “Because _I_  think it’s stupid. So I know you do too.” He shook his head, reaching up to rub right above his nose. “It’s so _complicated_ ,” Monty said. “I mean, I know she’s dead. But AI is weird, and–the ethics there… but who am I to talk about ethics? And I just…” he trailed off with a sigh, looking at Miller again. “Just tell me you think it’s stupid.”

Miller hesitated. “If it’s important to you, then it’s not stupid.”

Monty sighed another time. “That’s not what I asked,” Monty said.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Miller responded. “I get that it’s weird. I mean, my dad’s there too, in that light city, and–” Monty snorted. “What?” Miller asked.

“I don’t know,” Monty said. “You said light city.”

Miller’s mouth tugged into a smile. “So?”

“You know it’s not called _light city_.”

“Who gives a shit what it’s called?” Miller asked, a little laugh in his voice, and Monty smiled too. “It’s a city, there’s supposedly light. Therefore, light city.”

“You’re an idiot,” Monty said, but he was grinning. Again they were silent, but it was the good sort of silent. Not the sort of silent that echoed through the abandoned camp. “Are you and Bryan okay?” Monty asked after a bit. 

Miller didn’t respond right away. “I guess.”

“That’s a crummy answer,” Monty told him.

“It’s a crummy feeling, too,” Miller responded. “I don’t know. I mean I still care about him. I always will, but–fuck, it hasn’t been the same. How could either of us expect it to be, though?” Miller scrubbed at his face. “I need to be drunk to have this conversation,” he muttered.

Monty smirked. “Oh no. Nate’s having feelings,” he teased. “Better get him drunk so he can act like a real person who has emotions.”

“Shut up,” Miller said with a laugh. There was something in his chest, warm, hearing his name in Monty’s mouth. _Nate_. It made his cheeks feel hot. “It’s just…” he started, and stopped. It wasn’t as easy with Bryan was it was with Monty. And that realization made Miller pause.

“It’s just what?” Monty asked. 

Miller didn’t know how to respond. He looked over at Monty and found him watching him. There was a sort of understanding in Monty’s eyes that made Miller’s throat thick. His eyes drifted to Monty’s mouth before he commanded them up again, blinking hard. 

“Yeah,” Monty finally said, his voice low. “I get that.” 

“Monty…” Miller started, but he didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? Monty ducked his head. 

“I’m on your side, you know,” Monty said. “I mean I’m always on your side,” Monty elaborated, “but just–I mean. I don’t know either. Never mind.” Miller watched as Monty’s mouth quirked to the side as he tried to sort out his thoughts. There was something fantastic about Monty that Miller craved, the sense of familiarity that he and Bryan had lost. “I heard you two fighting,” Monty finally said. 

“Yeah,” Miller murmured. 

“We _have_  lost a lot of people,” Monty continued, looking up. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

“Me neither,” Miller exhaled. They were across the room from one another, spread out on different couches, and yet still they felt so close. They held each other’s gaze another time before Monty ducked his head again. Miller wanted to push himself off the couch, stride over to Monty and grab his hand. Squeeze once. Reassure him that he wasn’t going anywhere. That they were in this together. But instead he sighed, lifting his hand to scratch his head. “I should go to bed. You should go to bed.” 

“Yeah.”

But neither of them moved. 

“In a little bit,” Miller finally murmured, and Monty nodded, looking up at him again. He knew it was wrong. He knew he should go back and talk to Bryan. But here he stayed with Monty. “But do you really think you could get the internet hooked up again?” Miller asked.

Monty’s face lit up with a smile. “Have you met me?” he returned. 


	30. love triangle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lowkey spoilers for 312?

Harper was so fucking thankful that she wasn’t alone to witness this shit show on her own. Her eyes met Raven’s across the room and they both smirked before looking back at their work.

Monty and Miller and Bryan didn’t seem to know that they were in the middle of a love triangle. Or if they did, they were very good at not addressing it. 

And, okay. Maybe it wasn’t a real love triangle. Because Bryan and Monty, there weren’t things there. But they were both hopelessly in love with Miller. And Miller was in love with the both of them too. Just separately. It didn’t need to be verbalized. She could see it in all of their eyes. 

Actually, maybe Miller knew he was in the middle of a love triangle. He seemed to panic every time he reached out for Monty, or look guilty when his hands tangled with Bryan’s. So Miller knew. And Monty, he knew that Miller was with Bryan. And Bryan, he knew that there was something between Miller and Monty that he didn’t understand. But love? Oh, boy. It was messy. 

“You know,” Harper said to Miller one night after the others had gone to bed. “This is getting out of hand.” Miller frowned at her. “C’mon. I’m like, your best friend,” she tried. They’d been through enough together that she felt confident in that. “What’s going on with you and Bryan? And Monty?” 

“Not sure if I’m into threesomes,” Miller muttered after dramatically rolling his eyes. 

“You’re the worst,” Harper said. “And you know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

Miller’s frown deepened, if possible. “I don’t.”

“You’re with Bryan,” she said. “But you’re in love with Monty. And they’re both in love with you.”

“Oh, fuck off, Harper.” 

“Seconded,” Raven’s voice came from the hallway. She slowly but surely limped down to where Harper and Miller were sitting. “I was about to ask if you wanted to start making bets on who’d break first,” Raven said to Harper with a grin.

“You fuck off too,” Miller said. 

“It’s like,” Raven sank into the spot on the couch by Miller. “You remember we had that database of old shows up on the Ark? Finn and I used to watch this one all the time–The Bachelor.”

“Oh, I watched some of that too,” Harper said with a laugh. She deepened her voice. “ _And_ who _will come out on top for Nathan Miller’s heart_?”

“Literally fuck off,” Miller said again, sinking down into the couch. “Leave me alone, and let me live.”

“I’ll let you live when you learn how to turn off your heart-eyes,” Raven said. “What’s with you and Agro boys?” Miller’s face was red and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, boo. We’re just teasing you Miller.”

“Ha ha, it’s hilarious. Only it’s not, so.” 

“I just want to _know_ ,” Harper said as she folded her legs under her. “There like, _is_  stuff there? Right?” Miller sighed again, but he didn’t respond. 

“I mean, I get it,” Raven said. “You waited four months for the guy,” she said to Miller. “And people change in four months. That’s hard.” She wrinkled her nose, murmuring something about _ten days_ under her breath, and Harper shifted. “You can still care about him without, like, being with him.”

“Listen,” Miller said. “This isn’t a game show. This is just–leave me alone.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Bryan doesn’t have anyone else,” he murmured, and Harper’s heart broke. Because of course Miller wouldn’t end things with someone who didn’t have anyone else. He was an asshole, but he was an asshole with a heart two sizes too big. “Fuck. Okay? I love him,” Miller said, lifting his head. “But you’re right, it’s not the same.”

Raven and Harper were both quiet. Finally Raven cleared her throat. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “Because, personally, I wouldn’t want to be with someone who didn’t want to be with me.” 

Miller sighed again. “Don’t you have an AI code to work out, or something?” he muttered. Raven rolled her eyes. “I’ll just–can’t it just wait until this is all over? For fuck’s sake.” 

“Who knows where we’ll be when this is all over,” Harper said. 

“Well that’s a shitty thought,” Raven murmured. 

“I’m just _saying_  that maybe being honest and up front with people is a _good thing_.” 

“I’m just _saying_ ,” Miller echoed, “leave me alone.” He pushed himself off of the couch with yet another sigh, staring off in the direction of his room. “And keep your damn mouths shut.” 

“No promises,” Harper hummed. Miller rolled his eyes, and Harper waited until his footsteps were all but silent before turning back to Raven. “It’s sad, yeah?”

“Mm-hm. People are hurt either way.” Raven flopped into the spot Miller’d been sitting in, sucking up the warmth. “I’m rooting for Monty though.”

“Me too,” Harper admitted. 

The two of them laughed, shaking their heads at one another as they reveled in the feeling of being young again. It was a damn mess, and Harper was over messes. She’d give Miller this one – they could wait until this was all over before she intervened again. 


	31. just a little longer

Miller turned to face the door with a frown when there was a soft knock on the door. A response couldn’t even crawl up his throat before it was being pushed open, Monty peering in with concern on his face. “Miller?” he asked quietly.

They’d been trying to conserve energy, not wanting too much attention to be drawn to Arkadia for using light, so the room was dark. He sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed he was in. “Yeah,” Miller answered.

“What’re you doing in here?” Monty asked, stepping into the room. “You missed dinner. Harper’s worried.” Miller raked his hands over his face, trying to shake himself from the funk he was in. “You okay?”

A laugh escaped him. Weak and strangled. “Sure, Monty.”

Monty closed the door behind him, reaching for the light switch. The sun was setting and it would be _too_ dark soon, too dark to see one another. Yellow light filled the room and Miller squinted, blinking hard to adjust his eyes. Monty entered the room, his footsteps hesitant as he looked more and more concerned.

“Bryan said you’d be here,” Monty said. “What happened?” Miller pursed his lips, looking at the floor. “Miss your dad?”

That’s where they were, anyway. His father’s quarters. It was a fair assumption. It was a wrong assumption, but a fair one.

Miller hesitated. He didn’t want to talk about it. But there were only five of them in Arkadia, word was sure to get around. And Miller didn’t want to lie to Monty.

“Bryan broke up with me,” he said. Monty stood up straight, his eyebrows coming together quickly as he frowned. The conversation wasn’t all that long ago, a few hours maybe. It had just been bouncing around in his head since then, replayed again and again as Miller tried to sort it out. “Couldn’t stay in that room anymore. Brought my shit in here.”

“ _What?_ ” Monty asked. “What do you mean he broke up with you?”

 _“I can’t do it,” Bryan had said. “If this is your life—if being with you gets me tied up in airlocks ready to suffocate to death, then I can’t do this.” Miller had tried arguing, that shitty things happened to everyone, that they weren’t always putting their life on the line like that, but Bryan wasn’t listening. “Nate, I love you, I do, but I can’t do it anymore. You are_ constantly _putting your life on the line. All of you delinquents are. And that—it’s fine, but I’m not like that.”_

_“I didn’t sign up for this life,” Miller had grumbled._

_“But you did,” Bryan responded. “When we were on the Ark and you started stealing, that was you signing up for this life.”_

_Bryan went on to say that the idea of being with him was terrifying. That was constantly terrified. For his own life, for Miller’s life. Terrified to the point in which he couldn’t hold him anymore without thinking about it. Terrified to the point in which Bryan looked at Miller and didn’t see the boy that he loved anymore. And he just couldn’t do it._

_“What about when this is over?” Miller asked, desperate to cling onto some sort of hope. “This is just—you need a break, right?”_

_“No, Nate,” Bryan said, shaking his head. “I don’t just need a break. We had a break. For four months. And now things are different. And I—like I said, I’ll always love you. But it’s not the same. And I can’t live my life like this.”_

_Scared. Always scared. So he ended it_.

“It’s just over,” Miller said, shrugging. “You wait four fucking months for someone and they decide it isn’t worth it. No big deal.” Monty crossed the room to him quickly and Miller seemed to shrink, his shoulders drooping as he pulled in on himself. “Stop,” Miller said as Monty sat beside him. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Monty said. “You’ve hidden yourself in your dad’s room.”

Miller frowned at him. “I _am_ fine,” he said. “You don’t have to look out for me.”

“That’s what we do,” Monty responded. Miller sighed and Monty stood. “I’m going to grab you some food,” he told him as he started for the door. “I’ll be right back.” Miller sighed another time when the room was quiet, Monty’s footsteps fading down the hall.

\--

“You’ve got enough to worry about.”

It was the day after Bryan called it quits and Miller was still sort of… moping in his room. Harper ducked her head in the night before saying she didn’t mind covering for him (they didn’t really _need_ to take watch, they had a pretty good surveillance system rigged up) which Miller appreciated. But he gave himself a very short amount of time to get over it. So tomorrow he’ll be back out, patrolling the grounds for wild animals that make their way through the gate.

But Monty was back, sitting at the table with his notes spread out and piled high. He looked up at Miller, frowning. “What’d you say?” Monty asked.

“I said you’ve got enough to worry about,” Miller said. He was on the couch, a book in his hands as he tried to distract himself. It wasn’t working, but whatever. “AI code. And your mom. And other shit. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Monty smiled, a soft sort of smile that made Miller feel slightly too warm. But he held Monty’s gaze. “Nate,” he said, “you’re my friend.”

“Don’t call me that,” Miller responded immediately, not taking the time to process the fact that Monty called him _Nate_. Familiar and warm, still. It just made him think of Bryan.

Monty arched an eyebrow. “That’s your name, Miller.” Miller pressed his lips together and looked down at his book. “Besides, I’m not worrying about you,” Monty said, waving his hand in Miller’s direction. “This room just has good lighting.”

\--

His first day back circling Arkadia was better than he thought it would be.

He saw Bryan (there were _literally only five of them_ ) but it was… okay. Bryan smiled at him. And Miller didn’t return it. But it could’ve been worse.

Hours later though, alone in his father’s quarters again, the aching of it all returned. It didn’t make sense to Miller. They had an epic story, one for the books. After surviving so many things, so much hardship, they managed to find one another again. And when the hardship continued they still stayed alive, they stayed together.

Miller lashed out. He ripped books from the shelves and threw trinkets across the room, listening to them shatter against the wall. He’d collapsed on the couch by the time Monty arrived, his head in his hands breathing heavily and trying to exhale all of his anger. And Monty just sat beside him, not saying a thing. But knowing he was there was comforting.

\--

“I’m not letting you sleep in here alone,” Monty said as he entered with a bag swung over his shoulder.

Miller frowned at him, but didn’t protest. They’d mostly been sleeping together as a group in one of the bigger rooms, but since things with Bryan happened Miller just couldn’t do it. He’d been in his dad’s room since then and the silence was overwhelming and too much.

“I’m fine,” Miller said.

“Too bad.”

“People will think we’re up to something,” Miller told him. Because it was okay if Miller was absent from their group sleep-out, but if Miller _and_ Monty were absent then people would start to wonder.

“I’m always up to something,” Monty responded, and Miller rolled his eyes.

And truth be told, he didn’t mind it. He didn’t mind that Monty had invited himself, carrying his things and settling down on the couch. He didn’t mind hearing someone else breathing in the room. But even after they settled into the darkness, Miller in his dad’s bed and Monty on the couch, Miller couldn’t fall asleep.

He shifted in his spot, throwing his arm over his head, recounted his day as he tried to embrace sleep. It wasn’t working.

“You still awake?” Monty asked. Miller grunted. There was some shuffling and then Miller startled when the mattress dipped as Monty climbed in beside him. “So,” Monty said, covering himself in his own blanket and fluffing up his own pillows. “I think I’m nearly at a breakthrough.”

Miller blinked hard, letting his eyes adjust so he could make Monty out beside him. “ _What?_ ”

“With the code,” Monty clarified. “Raven had her breakthrough today,” Monty said. “She cracked this one part that ALIE had written, or whoever, Becca I guess, absolutely forever ago. But ALIE tweaked it a bit and there was some hidden script that Raven pulled out, it was amazing watching her work.” Miller stared at him silently before he finally realized what Monty was doing. He was trying to get him to fall asleep. “And so I figure that it’s my turn for a breakthrough,” Monty carried on. “I’m just as smart as Raven and I _haven’t_ had an AI in my head.”

“Monty…”

“So my plan,” Monty carried on, reaching up and brushing his hand over Miller’s face to get him to close his eyes. “There you go,” he said when Miller sighed, closing his eyes. “Anyway, my plan,” he continued, “is to go through the algorithms another time tomorrow. And if I look through the different outputs around the time that Polaris was blast from space, when ALIE1 had access to the different stations…”

He talked until his mouth went dry, and Miller fell asleep to the sound of Monty’s voice.

\--

They were tangled together when Miller woke up.

They definitely did not fall asleep like that. In fact, they were on very opposite sides of the bed, with different blankets and everything. But now they were sharing blankets, and their ankles had twisted together under the sheets, and Monty was pressed against him with his head on Miller’s chest. And Miller didn’t want to move. His fingers curled against Monty’s back and he squeezed his eyes shut.

He missed this. Being curled with someone. And this… this type of cuddling was different than that he did with Bryan. In fact, Miller couldn’t remember the last time he and Bryan woke up like this. They’d fall asleep like this and wake up on opposite sides of the bed. The reverse of this.

“Nate?” he heard. Monty’s sleepy voice, rumbling against his chest.

“Sorry,” Miller murmured, starting to pull away.

“S’okay,” Monty responded softly, nuzzling closer. “You just miss him. I get it. I don’t mind.”

But how could Miller tell Monty that this wasn’t something he did with Bryan? Maybe Miller just missed human contact. To be close to someone. And Monty was close. And he pulled Monty toward him in his sleep.

Miller held Monty close, deciding to think about it later.

\--

It started to happen a lot. And by a lot, that meant every day. Monty would come into Miller’s quarters and lay beside him in bed, and Miller would swear that they’d keep their distance, and still they’d wake up together.

He craved it.

He looked forward to listening Monty recount his progress on the code, and the fact that Miller barely understood what Monty was talking about made it easier for him to fall asleep. He looked forward to the familiar cadence of Monty’s voice, the warmth of Monty’s body. Today Monty’s hand had slipped under Miller’s shirt, his fingers draped against the small of Miller’s back. The feeling of it was indescribable and Miller wanted more.

He could feel Monty’s breath against his collarbone and Miller closed his eyes to savor it. Not just the human contact, not just being close, but feeling _safe_. He felt _safe_ with Monty here, crushed against him.

“Nate,” Monty whispered. Miller’s eyebrows came together. He didn’t respond. “Should we stop this?” Monty asked.

“Sleeping?” Miller asked, but he knew that wasn’t what Monty was referring to. Monty shifted, pressing his forehead to Miller’s collarbone now. “I don’t want to,” Miller admitted through a thick voice.

Monty was quiet for a moment before he responded, “Me neither.”

Miller sighed, but Monty didn’t pull away. “It’s too fast,” Miller murmured, feeling Monty’s fingers lightly brush against his skin. “Monty. There’s so much…” he trailed off, not sure what he wanted to say.

“I know,” Monty whispered back. “There’s so much going on. And it’s complicated. And AIs exist, and wars, and ex-boyfriends, and there’s a lot. It’s a lot.” Miller nodded and Monty didn’t pull away. “But can’t we stay like this a little longer anyway?”

Miller wasn’t sure how it happened, but his lips were then on Monty’s forehead. “Yeah,” he murmured.

So they stayed like that, nuzzled together, just a little longer.


	32. stuck

Monty fiddled with the door handle another time, sighing loudly before giving up. They’d been doing a routine walk of Arkadia when a siren went off, meaning something (or some _one)_ had entered camp. The system that Raven had set up caused all the doors to auto-lock, leaving Miller and Monty stuck in a room together.

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while,” Monty said, finally turning to look at Miller. Their lock system still had a few bugs, and Monty knew it would take Raven at least a little bit of time for her to get the doors unlocked again. “Which is–Miller?” Monty asked, finding a look of panic on Miller’s face. “ _Hey_.” 

Monty strode across the room to him but Miller shook his head, holding his hands up quickly. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s…” Miller’s eyes darted toward the door and he shook his head another time. “Fuck.” Miller pushed past Monty for the door of the room and pushed against it. “Airlock,” he rasped.

Monty paused, watching as Miller pressed his forehead to the cool metal of the door. Miller, Bryan and Harper, they’d all been tied up in the airlock a lot longer than the other delinquents. Struggling against their binds, trying to get out. 

“We’re not trapped in this room,” Monty said quickly, but Miller wasn’t moving. “Nate,” he said, striding over to him. “We’ve got a window right over there. Look.” Miller sighed deeply before tipping his head to the side. “The doors are locked because someone tripped the wire,” Monty told him. “Probably another stray animal. We’re safe, we’re okay.”

Miller’s eyes were trained on the window and he nodded his head weakly. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He let out a short breath. “I know.” But Miller didn’t move from the door, and so Monty strode over to stand next to him. He turned again, pressing his forehead back against the door. “Monty,” Miller rasped.

“I’m here.” He reached out, resting his hand on Miller’s arm.

They stayed like that until Raven reversed the locks, freeing them from the room.


	33. night shift

“I’ve _got him_ , Harper,” Miller bit out, readjusting the gun in his hands. Monty was working diligently on the AI code behind them, not paying attention to the two in the hallway. “You’ve covered him for the past week,” Miller went on. “I don’t mind.”

Harper arched an eyebrow at him, rocking backwards on her heels. Monty was staying up later and later these days, desperate to keep working until he cracked something, and neither Harper or Miller felt okay just leaving him alone. 

“He’s my friend,” Harper said carefully.

“He’s my friend too,” Miller murmured. “And you’ve spent enough time with him. Give someone else a chance, for Christ’s sake.”

Harper’s lips puckered and her eyes flashed and all of that made Miller feel small under her gaze. “Wait a minute,” she said. Her eyes flickered to Monty, still working, still not paying attention, before returning to Miller. “Are you jealous?” Miller didn’t respond, he just stood a little taller. “For starters,” Harper said, stepping closer to him. “I don’t have a lot of friends left. Monty isn’t _just yours_.”

“Oh, whatever.”

“Secondly,” Harper continued a little sharper, “you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“Fuck off,” Miller nearly snapped.

“And thirdly,” she said, stepping out of the Miller’s space and looking toward Monty again. “It’s not like that. I don’t think I’m his type anyway.” Miller frowned at her as she took another step back. “Night shift’s all yours, Miller,” Harper said. “Night, Monty,” she called to her friend.

“Night,” he responded loudly without looking up from his work, instantly re-immersed in what he’d been looking at the second Harper was gone. Miller shifted by the door, feeling slightly uneasy, before Monty looked up at him. “You can sit down, you know,” he said, his mouth curling into a smile.

Miller crossed the room and sat in the seat across the table. It was going to be a long night.


	34. hold my hand

Monty wasn’t entirely sure when it began, but Miller had started holding his hand. At first maybe it was just something he did to reassure himself that Monty was here. That after everything, they’d survived. That they kept surviving. That when everyone else had left, had gone, had died, Monty remained. 

Monty didn’t mind. Miller hand nice hands. Large, calloused, warm. His thumb would brush against Monty’s knuckles. He’d twist his hand until their fingers were twined together.

It happened so often that Monty stopped noticing it. It was just something that they did, holding hands. Across the table when they ate with Bellamy and Clarke. Linked together as they sat side by side in Raven and Jasper’s workroom. And maybe Monty started to do it too, reaching out for Miller’s hand. It was a constant. Monty liked constants, because he was tired of change. Because with change came wars, and with wars came death. And the life they had now, all of the delinquents and survivors of ALIE, it was a nice life. 

They were sitting together on an old couch when the warmth of Miller’s hand engulfed his own again, and Monty moved reflexively to lace their fingers together. It was storming outside. The kind of storm that destroyed tents, the kind of storm that broke branches, the kind of storm that made inside feel cozy.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Miller said suddenly. His voice was quiet, meant only for Monty as though there was someone else in the room who could’ve been listening in despite the fact that they were alone. “And I’m terrified.” 

Monty turned to look at him. Miller had started watching him a lot lately, too. His gaze fixated on Monty from across the room. Curious eyes, concerned eyes, wondering eyes. 

Monty wasn’t sure what to say. “Nate,” he started.

“I’ve lost people,” Miller said. Monty knew that. Bryan. His father. “They were ripped from me,” he forced out through a thick voice. They were stolen before they should’ve been. “And I’m terrified you will be too.” 

Miller looked away and Monty reached up with his freehand, tugging on Miller’s chin so he was looking at Monty again. “Don’t be,” Monty said. 

“What?” Miller asked. “Terrified? Or in love?” 

“Terrified,” Monty whispered back. Miller’s eyes lowered to Monty’s mouth and Monty rubbed his lips together. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. 

“No one ever is,” Miller muttered. Monty tugged on his chin a little and Miller blinked hard. Monty squeezed his hand. He didn’t ever want to let go. He lowered his other hand from Miller’s chin but Miller didn’t look away. “Fine, then,” he said lowly. “I think I’m in love with you.” 

The storm outside raged on. “No _and_?” Monty asked. 

“And I want to kiss you,” Miller amended. 

Monty licked his lips. “Then what are you waiting for?” 

Monty wasn’t entirely sure when it began, but the moment Miller leaned in so their mouths could meet, Monty was certain he never wanted it to stop.


	35. bellamy looking out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place post s2, pre s3

Miller’s just finished his drink at the bar when Bellamy lowered himself onto the stool beside him. Today had been long. Despite the fact that the Mountain Men were gone, that everyone in Mount Weather had been obliterated, Miller found himself training harder and harder. The Grounders weren’t as much of a threat as they used to be, considering Kane was working on establishing a sort of peace with them, but Miller still found the need to perfect his fighting skills. He was already a good shot; it was the hand-to-hand he needed work on.

“I’ve got to talk to you,” Bellamy said without precursor. Miller tipped his head to look at his friend and waited. “About Monty,” Bellamy added.

Miller felt his eyebrows pulling together but nodded, lifting his hand to wave the bartender back over to fill up his drink. “He still having nightmares?” Miller asked. It had been weeks since they returned home to Camp Jaha— _Arkadia_ —and the delinquents were still struggling. Especially those who’d survived the drills. Miller had been close to being on the table but in the end he’d made it out okay. “Want me to talk to him?”

“No, it’s—” Bellamy sighed. He lifted his hand before dragging it through his hair, and Miller paused with his cup to his lips. “He’s Monty, you know?”

Miller blinked a few times. “Yeah…?”

“He’s strong,” Bellamy said. “I mean, you’re all strong. You’re delinquents.” Miller’s mouth would’ve tugged into a smile at that, at Bellamy calling the delinquents strong, but something about his tone was making him feel unsettled. “But he’s also…” he trailed off, looking to Miller. “I just don’t want him to get hurt.”

Miller blinked a few more times before taking another drink from his cup. “Me neither?”

Bellamy sighed another time, still dragging his hands through his hair. “You just, Miller, you can’t lead him on, alright?” Bellamy looked at his friend pointedly, and Miller felt the floor rush out from under him. “Don’t look at me like that,” Bellamy said, lifting his hand to point in Miller’s direction. “Like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I _don’t_ know what you’re talking about,” Miller responded.

Bellamy shook his head. “He likes you,” he said.

Miller was still shaking his head. “No he doesn’t.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m—what?” Miller wasn’t sure if he was drunk or _what_. He hadn’t had _that much_ to drink but none of his thoughts were making sense, slipping through his fingers as he tried to figure out how to respond. “Bellamy, he…” Monty couldn’t like him. Could he? Out of all of the people on the ground, Miller enjoyed spending a lot of his time with Monty. They’d grown closer at Mount Weather and Miller felt… protective of him, in a way. But that—had that translated differently than he’d meant it to? How did he mean it to, anyway? “No, of course not,” Miller forced out. “I wouldn’t lead him on.”

“You already are,” Bellamy said.

“ _How_.”

Bellamy held out his hands as if to say _think about it_. Miller shifted awkwardly, racking his brain.

There were… moments. Sometimes Miller had to command himself to look somewhere else because he’d been looking at Monty a little too long. And sometimes Miller would lick his lips while staring at Monty’s mouth. Which was unintentional, but it happened a lot. And sometimes Miller would forget Bryan’s name, especially when Monty was close enough that Miller could feel his warmth.

“I just know you have someone,” Bellamy said. “And if you think he’s dead, or—just—be careful, okay?”

“Yeah,” Miller murmured. He lifted his drink again for another sip, the silence feeling like too much, before lowering it back to the counter. “Monty likes me?”

Bellamy sighed, using the counter to push himself to his feet. “You didn’t hear it from me,” Bellamy murmured.

And then he was gone, leaving Miller alone with reeling thoughts needing another glass of alcohol to calm them down.


	36. terrified to love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bg bellarke  
> takes place like, after s3 into s4?? who knows

Miller is 99.9% certain that he’s not supposed to be listening to this conversation. But the boat that they’ve taken from Floukru to get across the ocean to Europe on their very own Exodus isn’t really that large, and Miller’s kind of been waiting for this moment to happen for forever, so he lingers in the hallway anyway. 

“It’s just,” Clarke says quietly. “I know that I’m not ready. And that I shouldn’t, but Bellamy, I...” she trails off and Miller edges closer, leaning against the wall. He’s pretty sure Raven and Murphy have made bets on this moment but damn it all to hell, Miller’s a fucking romantic at heart. “At some point,” Clarke says, “I realized that I don’t just _need_  you. I want you, too.” 

“Clarke,” Bellamy murmurs. “We’ve both lost people, and--”

“I know that,” she stops him. “I know we have. But not each other. We always find each other again. And I--Bellamy--”

“Clarke,” he tries again. 

“I love you,” Clarke finally says. Her voice sounds wet, like she might be crying. “And I’m terrified to love you, but I do, and there’s nothing I can--” she gets cut off again and Miller doesn’t mean to but he peeks around the corner anyway. 

Miller ducks away at once when he sees them in an embrace, Bellamy’s hands carefully cupped around Clarke’s cheeks, their lips meeting in the middle. He rests back against the cool metal wall of the boat and sighs, trying his hardest to ignore the aching heat in his chest. 

_I don’t just need you, I want you, too._

_I’m terrified to love you, but I do._

Fuck. 

Miller strides down the narrow hallways of the boat, his footsteps frantic as he ducks his head into the dining area finding Abby and Kane in deep conversation, and then into the lounge where Murphy and Harper are both reading, and then he’s hurrying down to the tech room as fast as he can. “Monty,” Miller calls as he pushes open the room. 

Raven’s here too, Miller notes in the back of his mind, but all he can see is Monty and he’s too full of adrenaline to stop and think. 

“Miller, what--” Monty stands from his seat and spins, sounding panicked, but like Clarke was cut off earlier Miller cuts Monty off before he can finish. He kisses him deeply, his hands curving around Monty’s cheeks as he keeps him close. And just as he moves to pull back Monty’s lips start moving against his own and Miller sighs in relief when Monty’s hands lift to latch onto Miller’s shirt. Miller isn’t sure how long they’re kissing, their lips constantly chasing one another’s, but finally Monty moves away and Miller leans to pin their foreheads together. “Oh,” Monty finally exhales. 

Miller licks his lips. “Yeah,” Miller says. 

Monty smiles so brightly that Miller wants to melt into the sea. “Why now?” Monty asks, his voice a little too happy, and Miller shrugs. They’ve all lost people, and Jesus Miller’s scared. But what’s the point in being scared? He’ll tell Monty about Bellamy and Clarke later. “Okay,” Monty breathes.

Miller’s eyes catch on Raven who’s tinkering with something, smirking and pretending to not have seen, and Miller can’t stop himself from grinning.

None of them are quite sure how long they’ll be stuck at sea, but Miller knows that they’ll all make it through together. 


	37. with a tight chest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for 3x14 - also I'm bitter. is anyone else bitter? I am. me.

Monty couldn’t understand why his chest was still so tight.

He loved Harper, he did. But… Monty sighed and lifted his hands to scrub his face. He loved Harper, just not like that. Not like that. For the time in which they were together it was… nice. It was distracting, and Monty liked being distracted when everything in the world was aching, so that was nice. But it wasn’t—Harper isn’t…

Monty sighed another time, startling when he heard footsteps. He tipped his head to find Miller in the doorway, his rifle in his hand considering he’d been walking the perimeter, and Monty’s chest felt even tighter. _He’s with someone,_ Monty reminded himself, and then was immediately confused as to why he had to remind himself of this.

“So,” Miller said, stepping into the room and dropping his rifle on a nearby table. “You and Harper.”

“Word spreads fast,” Monty murmured.

“There’re five of us here,” Miller answered and his voice was so thick with something Monty couldn’t place (Sarcasm? Annoyance? Disgust?). “And Raven’s a gossip.” Monty couldn’t stop sighing, exhaling as though there was water in his lungs that he wanted to get out. Miller sunk onto the couch with a sneer on his face. “Was it all you’d ever dreamed of and more?”

“What’s your problem?” Monty tossed back, eager to cling onto this anger. It was better than the aching. “It’s not like _you’re_ not off screwing your boyfriend every night.” Miller scoffed, shaking his head. “What’s _wrong_ with you?” Monty snapped.

“Wrong with me?” Miller echoed. His voice was empty, and Monty was humming with anger. He shook his head another time. “Since when are you and Harper even an option?”

“She’s one of my best friends,” Monty said. Because that made sense. To sleep with your best friends, and hope for a future with them. Right? Falling in love with your best friend was what people did all the time. Only Monty hadn’t, and… “And that’s—why’s it even matter to you?”

“Don’t be a fucking idiot, Monty,” Miller muttered. Miller’s eyes darted somewhere else, and the look on his face morphed into something… Miller exhaled deeply. “Forget it.” He lifted his hands and scrubbed at his face, and Monty blinked hard. “All those months,” Miller said, dropping his hands and looking directly at Monty. “After the mountain. Before this. Did I imagine them? Did I make all that up?”

Monty almost asked what Miller meant when he felt everything hit him square in the stomach.

The linger glances Monty shared with Miller, the brushes of their hands. Where Monty’s chest was tight it now bloomed with heat, both familiar and confusing. He looked at Miller now, his eyes darting to Miller’s mouth as he waited for a response from Monty. Were those moments by the fire just as special to Miller as they had been to Monty? When their laughter was bright like there were no worries in the world? And those early mornings, passing mugs of coffee back and forth as they woke themselves up, was that more than they let it be?

“Of course not,” Monty finally exhaled. Those moments were real. Miller singing in the rover with his hand on Monty’s arm, that was real. The overwhelmingly bright smiles that they shared over jokes that weren’t funny, that was real. Miller’s face fell as though he hadn’t even _wanted_ this answer, this confirmation. “You have someone,” Monty said.

Miller’s face fell a second time, the vulnerability he rarely let anyone see was very clear on his face. “Not forever,” he murmured. “But with the war, it didn’t feel like I should…” he trailed off. “Fuck.” Miller stood quickly, scrubbing his hands over his face and hurrying toward the door. “Forget it.”

“Miller,” Monty called, but he kept going. “ _Nathan_!” Miller froze and Monty pushed himself to his feet. “Don’t do this,” Monty said.

Miller turned in Monty’s direction, his face blank again. “I didn’t do anything,” Miller said. “That was you.”

Monty’s feet carried him across the room, stopping just in front of Miller. Monty swallowed hard but that lump in his throat just wasn’t going away. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore,” Monty rasped. Miller strode toward him with purpose, closing the distance between them, cupping Monty’s cheeks so gently that even Monty was surprised Miller was on the other end of those hands. Miller let out a shuddering breath and lowered his forehead to Monty’s. His chin quivered and Monty’s eyes dropped to the motion.

“Me neither,” Miller murmured. Despite their closeness, despite the fact that Miller was here and looking at him in a way that made Monty feel like he could breathe again, despite how _right_ this moment felt, neither of them moved.

Monty breathed him in, breathed in this _feeling_ , the feeling that Harper had been describing as they laid together afterwards. _Safe_. Monty felt it here, he felt it now. 

He wanted to cling to it with all he had.


	38. go save the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're pretending that one scene didn't happen  
> and this one happened instead
> 
> also bryan just doesn't exist in this universe because i can do whatever i want and i'm COPING

Monty traced his finger over Nathan’s forehead, down Nathan’s nose and over his cheeks. Nathan kept still, watching Monty as he moved slowly. “Tell me something,” Monty said softly, and Nathan nodded. “That you’re not chipped.”

“For the love of God,” Nathan murmured, “I’m not _chipped_.” Monty’s finger kept moving, across his chin and his jaw. “You couldn’t pay me to take that piece of shit,” Nathan continued, his voice just as soft as Monty’s had been. They could stay here forever and Monty wouldn’t mind. He could forget about the war, he could forget about the pain, he could focus on _this_. Nothing but this. This never ending warmth that Nathan gave him, curled together perfectly. “Monty,” he exhaled, “I didn’t want to–I know that… with your–with,” Nathan stopped, and Monty pulled back slightly. “With recent events,” he tried again, “I don’t want you to think–”

“No, stop,” Monty cut him off. He didn’t want to hear it, not at all. “We’ve been through a lot,” he said. “But this…”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “This.” 

Monty bent in again, carefully capturing Nathan’s mouth with his own. He could kiss him a million times and want to do it a million times more. It would never be enough. 

Nathan’s mouth moved against his and Monty sighed. When he rolled, sliding his fingers into Monty’s hair, Monty hitched his leg up against Nathan’s and rocked forward. He wanted more. And not just because being with him was distracting from all the aching and suffering that was surrounding them, but because it was _right_. It felt as though everything had given them a break for once in their life, that they could breathe together and keep moving forward and growing and recovering.

“Monty,” Nathan gasped into his mouth and Monty sighed, sinking backwards and reaching for his hand. Just as Monty tangled their fingers together the door pushed open and Nathan groaned, the sound so annoyed that Monty couldn’t help but laugh.

“ _Finally_ ,” Raven said, ducking her head in. “Harper said you two have been flirting since the damn mountain.”

“Fuck off, Reyes,” Nathan murmured, his back still to Raven as he nipped at Monty’s throat.

“We’ve got to get back to work,” Raven said. She left, shutting the door, and Nathan sighed. 

They lay there for another moment before Nathan untangled their fingers. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, a sly smile on his face. “Go save the world.” 

Monty grinned and leaned in, stealing another kiss from the boy who made him feel unstoppable, before climbing out of bed. Once this was over, they were sure to have more time to themselves.


	39. it's your life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3x14 spoilers 
> 
> as you can see i've done a lot of restructuring my life

All Miller wanted to do was duck his head in to where Monty and Raven were working, see how they were doing, and then he was going to bed. After his last lap around Arkadia he was exhausted. To be fair, he should’ve just gone to bed. But still his feet carried him toward the labs anyway.

“…for you to see that,” Monty’s voice carried down the hallway. Miller slowed slightly, hearing the layers of concern in Monty’s voice. “I don’t want it to be awkward.”

“It’s not awkward, Monty, I just don’t care,” Raven responded. Miller’s footsteps were becoming slower. He couldn’t help himself. He was a gossip, and he craved information, which lead to overhearing other people’s conversations. “It’s your life, you can do what you want.”

“You said _finally_ ,” Monty pointed out. Miller pressed himself against the wall, closer to the lab. “Did you mean—”

“I’d been looking for you for half an hour,” Raven stopped him. “I said _finally_ because my hip was killing me and I needed you to get back to work. Not because you got into Harper’s pants.”

Something cold shot down Miller’s spine, a mixture of confusion and shock both. Monty and Harper… slept together? That didn’t sit right in Miller’s stomach. He thought he knew Monty and Harper pretty well individually, and he knew they were friends, but… more than that? He’d spent a lot of time with Harper recently and considered them close after being double agents together. She’d typically been pretty open with him. A crush on Monty—anything past a brotherly friendship—it hadn’t even been _hinted_ at. And Monty… Miller had always thought…

“Oh,” Monty said. “Well. Sorry.”

“Like I said,” Raven murmured, “I don’t care. I mean if anything, I always figured you and Miller would get together.”

Another jolt of something shot down Miller’s spine. And despite the fact that he was nowhere near the others he felt a heat crawling up his neck in embarrassment.

“Miller?” Monty asked. “Wh…really?”

“I mean he’s got Bryan,” Raven said. “But before that I thought you two were getting there. Me and Bellamy both.” Miller swallowed a groan, resting his head backwards against the wall. Bellamy was just as much of a gossip as Miller, and they’d spoken about Monty a few times before Agro had been found. “And even still…” Raven trailed off, and Miller could hear the shrug in her voice. “I mean, whatever. Your life.”

“Wait,” Monty’s voice was full of determination. He knew this was his sign to leave but Miller’s feet were cemented to the ground. “Did you—you really thought…?” Monty didn’t sound mad, or disgusted, or like he wanted to laugh. He sounded… interested. Maybe a little wistful. “I mean we all knew—he has Bryan, and—but…”

“Listen,” Raven said. “If you and Harper were just having fun, whatever. And if you’re together now, also whatever. I mean hopefully we can all make it out of this alive. But like I said.”

“My life,” Monty said softly. “Yeah. Got it.”

Miller let out a short breath. He wanted more. Jesus, he wanted Monty to keep asking Raven about it. Or Raven to keep egging on Monty. He wanted to know how Monty _felt_ about the idea, about the two of them getting together.

But instead Raven said, “Pass me Becca’s book.” And back to work they went.

Miller left without looking back.


	40. miller finds out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more 3x14 spoilers because I'M! COPING!

Bryan strides into their quarters with a grin on his face, something so bright and silly that Miller feels himself smiling too. “What’s got you so happy?” Miller asks with a laugh, lowering the book that’s in his hands as Bryan enters. “Did the war end and someone forget to tell me?”

“Oh, quiet, Nate,” Bryan laughs. “You’ll never guess what happened.”

“Probably not,” Miller agrees. “So are you gonna tell me?”

Bryan shakes off his jacket and starts kicking off his shoes. “Monty and Harper?” Bryan asks, as though reminding Miller who his friends are. And then Bryan waggles his eyebrows, his grin returning to his face. Miller closes his book immediately and any hint of a smile is gone at once. “Oh, lighten up, Nate,” Bryan says, waving his hands. “They were just having some fun.”

“Just having some fun?” Miller asks. “They had sex?’

“That’s the story,” Bryan says slowly, his own smile starting to slip in confusion. Miller’s already standing, searching their room for his shoes. “What—Nate, what are you doing?”

“Is Monty okay?” Miller practically snaps.

“I mean he sounds okay to me,” Bryan says with a laugh, but it’s a laugh that’s forced. “What’s wrong with you?”

“He killed his mom not even a week ago,” Miller growls. He finds his shoes and tugs them on as fast as he can. “Did everyone forget about that?” The anger in his voice is palpable despite the fact that Miller knows he shouldn’t be. He should be _concerned_. That’s what he _should_ be feeling. But his body is red hot and every movement he makes is aching a little and Miller has to grind his teeth to not snap again. “I’m going to check on him,” he says.

“ _Nate_ ,” Bryan starts after him but Miller turns out of his grasp before he can reach him. “Come _on_ , Nate,” Bryan sighs. “He’s just—it’s not your problem.”

“Not my problem?” Miller echoes. He scoffs, shaking his head and starting for the door. “I’m going to check on him,” he says again, his voice empty. “Don’t wait up.”

The second the door to their quarters are closed Miller crosses the hallway and leans back against the wall. He takes a deep breath, another, another. He can’t go to Monty like this, with confusion and disappointment and just a general _aching_  humming through his body. He needs to breathe, swallow whatever personal feelings he has that are breaking his heart and be here for Monty.

He has to be here for Monty, no matter how much it hurts.

 


	41. massages

Miller collapses onto the couch with a loud sigh, effectively pulling Monty’s attention from the schematics he’s been working on. Monty isn’t entirely sure why Miller still spends so much of his time dedicated to training others, considering it exhausts him a hefty amount and they’re in the middle of a pretty stable peace anyway, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Monty likes to watch Miller with the younger kids, teaching them to escape someone’s grasp and praising them in their work. Monty also really likes to watch Miller spar with Bellamy and Murphy and Octavia, sweating enough that his shirt sticks to him in all the right places. 

“Long day?” Monty asks, and Miller groans. He’s still rubbing at his face but he arches his back in a way as though he’s trying to stretch some muscles, and Monty smirks. “Maybe ease back on the sparring a bit,” Monty suggests.

“Maybe let me live my life,” Miller responds. He drops his hands from his face to show that he’s smiling, his words not meant to be taken seriously, and Monty’s smirk stretches into a smile too. “Makes me feel alive,” Miller says. “I’ve just got the worst fucking back ache of my life.” 

They’re in the common cabin, which is basically just a cabin that was built for people to lounge around in that’s in the center of camp. There’s a fireplace and Monty and Raven tinker with a lot of stuff here making it sort of their experiment (getting working electricity, running water, etc.), and there are couches for people to stretch out on and claim as their own. Mostly it’s a space for the remaining delinquents, but some nights others join them as well. 

So Monty should’ve been more thoughtful before saying, “I could give you a massage, if you want.” Because they’re in a public space. Super public. 

But Miller perks up, his eyebrows shooting to his forehead. “Oh, _could you_?” he asks. There’s a teasing tone in his voice which Monty ignores, looking back down at his schematics and making a dash somewhere or other. 

“I’m good with my hands,” Monty answers breezily. Because he is. He just so also happens to have a massive crush on Nathan Miller and is dying to work up the courage to move their flirtation into something more. Massages are probably a nice way to start. “Just thought I’d offer.” 

“So you’re being serious,” Miller says. He wants a firm answer, and Monty nods vehemently. “Alright, then.” Monty looks up as Miller reaches for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. “Give me a massage, then.” 

Monty’s pencil falls from his hand. This plan was half-baked. Mostly because he didn’t think Miller would actually accept his offer, but also largely in part because Monty hadn’t really thought about how seeing Miller shirtless would affect him. 

Monty forces himself to swallow, and to stop looking at Miller’s bare chest, and nods his head. “Sure, okay. Sit on the floor.” 

Miller grins wickedly as Monty crosses the room to him. He sits on the couch behind Miller, thankful for his chest and abs and body to be slightly out of sight, and rests his hands on Miller’s shoulders. Also, crap, Miller has nice shoulders too. 

“Be as rough as you want,” Miller tells him. Alright. Yeah. Half-baked plan. 

Monty starts working his hands over Miller’s shoulders, digging his palms into his skin and being rewarded with a groan or a gasp from Miller beneath him. He works out some of the easier knots and the way Miller’s breath hitches every time is _not helping_  Monty focus at all, not at all. 

But soon enough they decide that maybe they’ve done enough today, and Monty pulls away as Miller reaches for his shirt. “Thanks, Monty,” Miller says with a grin. “I feel a lot better.” 

“Good hands,” Monty reminds him. 

Miller’s grin widens. 

* * *

It sort of becomes a regular thing.

Monty spends most of his time working on schematics in the common cabin and Miller always comes over after a morning of intense sparring and Monty really, really, really doesn’t mind giving Miller massages. He really likes giving Miller massages. Because giving Miller massages means a shirtless Miller, and skin to skin contact. 

Miller and Murphy share a cabin on the outskirts of their new settlement, and after a bottle of Monty’s moonshine goes missing he heads straight there thinking that maybe Murphy’s nicked it. He knocks on the door twice before Miller pulls the door open, shirtless, with a grin. 

“You’re making house calls, now?” he asks. 

Monty feels his face flush. “I’m looking for Murphy,” Monty manages, and Miller pulls the door open more to let him in. “Had a bottle of moonshine go missing, he’s my first suspect.”

“Still might be,” Miller says, closing the door behind Monty after he enters. “Isn’t home. Probably took it and went soul-searching, or something.” 

Monty nods, slightly bitter that someone took his moonshine without asking but also slightly relieved he doesn’t have to confront Murphy about it. Then he remembers Miller’s comment. “Your back hurting?” Monty asks, turning to the boy, and Miller shrugs as though it’s not a big deal. Monty considers this, and the moonshine is pushed from his mind as his eyes fall to Miller’s bare chest. “I don’t mind,” Monty tells him.

Miller licks his lips before they part in a grin, tipping his head and motioning for Monty to follow him into his bedroom. Miller’s a surprisingly clean individual and his bed is made. Monty quickly realizes that this will _not_  be the sort of massage that he typically gives. Normally Miller’s on the floor and Monty’s on the couch behind him, but Miller climbs onto bed without batting an eye and Monty hesitates.

But just long enough to kick off his shoes. 

He climbs onto Miller’s bed once he’s settled and starts off to the side, digging his knuckles into Miller’s back lower than a typical massage allows for and is rewarded with a groan so dirty Monty feels his heart begin to race. He works methodically and clenches his teeth to keep from saying something inappropriate and Miller continues on with his breathy sighs of relief. 

“This isn’t working,” Monty murmurs after a bit. The angle is off and Monty feels restricted to one side of Miller’s back. “Do you mind if I–”

“Anything,” Miller cuts him off. 

Monty straddles Miller’s back and catalogs the way Miller swallows a groan to think about later. It takes Monty a moment to refocus his attention, wanting to trace his fingers up Miller’s spine and over his shoulder blades, but the silence stretches on forever and Monty orders himself to get back to work.

The result is instantaneous. 

Miller hisses through his teeth in satisfaction and lets out short breaths more frequently and Monty is distracted, distracted, very distracted by every dirty noise that Miller’s making. It’s surprising that he catches it. 

“Oh, _fuck_ , baby,” Miller practically moans into the pillows, and Monty freezes, his knuckles still digging into Miller’s back. Monty blinks. Once. Twice. _What_. “God, that feels good.”

Monty’s grip slackens. “Nate?” 

He’s gripping the blankets beneath him. “Mm?” 

Monty considers this for a moment. He doesn’t know what he said, or maybe he doesn’t care. So Monty can choose to ignore it or… okay, no, he can’t ignore it. “Baby?” he repeats, the word sounding almost perfect in his mouth. 

Miller twists his head as Monty leans back slightly, and Miller looks… pink. “Did I…?” he trails off, and Monty nods. Miller swallows. “Fuck.” 

“It’s–”

Miller rolls onto his back so suddenly that Monty can’t anticipate it, and he falls forward against Miller’s chest. But Miller reacts fast enough to catch Monty’s shoulders. One of his hands slides up Monty’s throat before cradling Monty’s cheek. 

“I don’t want this to be weird,” Miller murmurs. Monty’s still straddling Miller, only now it’s infinitely more intimate than before due to the way their hips are meeting, and Monty can’t look at anything other than Miller’s mouth. “If I–”

“Shut up,” Monty stops him. Miller’s hand eases away from Monty’s cheek slightly but he covers Miller’s hand with his own, keeping it there. Monty’s eyes drop to Miller’s chest, still bare, then up to Miller’s mouth again, then finally he meets his gaze. 

Miller understands. 

They meet in the middle, Monty’s hands scrabbling for Miller’s shirt to hold onto before remember he’s not wearing one and curls against Miller’s shoulder instead. Their lips collide just right due to the way Miller’s holding his chin up and it’s hot and wet, both of them desperately tugging the other closer.

It doesn’t take long for Miller to roll the both of them, pinning Monty to the mattress below him as he grinds his hips forward. The moan that escapes Monty is so _needy_  that Miller grins, breaking away slightly so he can get Monty’s shirt up and over his head, too. 

“I’d been wondering how to pay you back,” Miller manages between rapid kisses down Monty’s chest. “For the massages, you know.” 

“No payment necessary,” Monty gasps out. Miller’s hands work the button of Monty’s shorts undone. “Got to see you shirtless every day,” Monty continues, weakly gripping the blankets beneath him. 

Miller laughs so brilliantly that Monty can feel it in his veins. 


	42. a jealous look

Really it was Miller’s fault for staring. He just couldn’t get over it.

He couldn’t get over the fact that Bellamy Blake had finally gotten his head out of his ass and told Clarke how he felt about her. He couldn’t believe that things had worked out for them. He couldn’t believe that despite everything, all the pain and suffering that existed in this world that they lived in, that things were okay for Bellamy and Clarke. That they’d finally made it. 

They were across the dining hall side by side, their hands linked on the table for everyone to see, and Miller was staring. It was just un-be-fucking-lievable. 

“Your eyes are going to fall out of their sockets,” Monty said, dropping into the seat beside Miller. But he couldn’t _stop_. Miller just shook his head, watching as Bellamy lit up with laughter at something that Clarke said. “Miller,” Monty said, nudging his arm. There was laughter in his voice, too. “Quit it.”

“I just can’t get over it,” Miller said. 

“Why?” Monty asked. “Jealous?”

Miller scoffed. “No.” Monty nudged him again. “I’m not jealous,” he said, finally turning to look at the boy beside him.

“Why not?” Monty asked. His eyes darted to Bellamy and Clarke and all of the promises of a future that they had, simply by holding hands across a table. “Don’t you want what they have?”

“No,” Miller said. It was instantaneous.

“I do,” Monty said. 

Again, instantly, “I want something else.” 

Monty was looking at him now, that soft look of understanding that he always seemed to have. Wise beyond his years, smarted than most. A soft smile spread on his face. 

“Like what?” Monty asked.

 _Like you,_ Miller thought. 

He wanted moments shared with Monty. Not out loud, not public for the world to see, but quiet moments tucked in corners and quiet smiles for his eyes only and quiet love that felt infinite. 

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” Miller told him. 


	43. making it hard to care

“C’mon,” Monty says again, trying to hold Miller down on the bed. “Stop it.” There’s exhaustion in his voice, Monty knows that, despite the fact that he’s trying his hardest not to sound exhausted. He knows that Miller’s hurting. But Monty’s tired, so endlessly tired, and all he wants to do is get to bed. “Miller,” he nearly groans, “just lay _down_.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Miller says. “Or sober.”

And Miller is very, very drunk.

He started drinking a lot after Bryan passed last month, infection making it easier for the radiation to claim him. And no one can get through to him. Not Bellamy, not Papa Miller, absolutely no one. Miller just drinks and sleeps and ignores the feelings he’s really got to address.

“Nate,” Monty practically begs. “Please. I’m tired.” 

Something shifts on Miller’s face. He goes from laughing, drunken trouble to something cold almost at once. Monty’s chest hurts when he realizes he called him Nate.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Miller snaps, shoving Monty’s hands away. “Go to bed, then.” 

This is what Miller does. He turns cold and harsh but Monty’s not going to walk away now. “Just take your shirt off and lay down,” Monty says. “I’ll get you a cup of water. Okay?”

“Take my shirt off?” Miller asks. He grabs the hem and pulls his shirt up and over his head, rolling it into a ball and tossing it in Monty’s direction as hard as he can. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.” There’s anger in his voice, so hot that Monty can feel it. Monty drags his hands over his face as Miller carries on. “But you’ve got Harper, isn’t that right?” 

Monty crosses the room to get him the cup of water. “You make it really freaking hard to care about you sometimes,” Monty says, filling the glass.

“Then fuck off,” Miller growls. 

“Listen, I’m sorry that your life sucks,” Monty says, starting back to Miller with the water, “but all of our lives suck! So get over it!” Miller’s sitting up again but not trying to climb out of bed, so Monty counts it a win. Still, Miller’s jaw is clenched and his eyes are dark. “We’ve all lost people, okay?” 

“I’ve heard the speech,” Miller hisses. “But you’ve all still got people to hold you at night and tell you that shit’s going to be okay, even when it’s not.” His voice is thick and shaky and his eyes are growing wet. “I don’t. Not anymore.” 

“Miller.”

“Go to bed,” he says another time. “You don’t have to take care of me.” Miller collapses on his bed then and rolls, his back facing Monty, before letting out a shuddering breath that Monty feels in his bones. 

Monty lingers. His hand extends like he wants to rest it on Miller’s shoulder. _It_ will _be okay,_ he wants to say. But instead he waits until Miller’s breathing evens out and leaves him alone in his room, wishing there was something more he could do.


	44. they're going to live

They’re in Raven’s quarters.

The exodus to some sort of safe zone is beginning tomorrow and this is their last night in Arkadia. Monty managed to snag a bottle of moonshine and all of the delinquents, those who remained, piled into Raven’s quarters. 

They’re going to live. They know it deep in their bones that everyone in this room will live. They’ve been fighting for so long that living is the only option. Death is no longer viable. Acid rain could fall upon them and they still would push on. 

It’s why they’re drinking. Because they know this. Because the delinquents know that they’re going to make it. It’s why they’re celebrating, passing around the moonshine, taking big swigs from the bottle, laughing. Because they’re going to live. 

Miller’s tipsy. 

Actually, everyone’s tipsy. Bellamy’s smiling, and Clarke’s smiling, and they’re smiling at one another like they have a secret. (They’re going to live.) And Jasper and Octavia are off from the crowd, but they’re smiling too. And Miller knows it’s because survival is in their blood, even after the aches and the pain and the suffering. Even after all the death. 

“It’s going to be weird,” Monty says from Miller’s side. “Not having to fight anymore.” 

That’s not entirely true, Miller thinks. They’re still going to have to fight. There’ll be weather they can’t prepare for, creatures lurking in the woods they haven’t anticipated. He doesn’t say this though. 

Instead he says, “It’s a good thing. Considering you never learned to fight in the first place.”

Monty laughs. The sound is brilliant. When’s the last time they could laugh like this? “Why do you think that?” Monty asks. “That I never learned to fight?”

People are watching them now, Harper and Raven and Murphy, all with smirks. 

“Well have you?” Miller asks. Monty never showed up to sparring lessons with Bellamy and Lincoln. “I bet you can’t even pin me.” And it’s because he’s tipsy, Miller thinks, that he doesn’t realize Monty’s already moving. 

Because suddenly there’s more laughter from their friends, and Monty’s got his hips over Miller’s, and he’s pinning Miller’s arms above his head to the ground. And there’s a look in Monty’s eyes that makes Miller’s chest feel warm. He licks his lips. Monty notices. 

“What do I win?” Monty asks. 

Miller’s breathing hard. He doesn’t answer with words, but it’s hanging in the space between them anyway. _Moments like this_. Because they’re going to live, all of them. Monty and Miller and all of their friends. 

They’ll have more moments like this, with laughter and moonshine and hope. But maybe, also, they’ll have moments like this, with Monty’s body holding Miller’s down, sharing air, holding hands, licking lips. 

Miller really wants more moments like this.

Monty rolls off of Miller and grins. And Miller sits up, holding out his hand for the bottle of moonshine to be passed back to him so he can take a swig, because his body’s still on fire. He passes it to Monty and Miller watches as his lips curve around the mouth of the bottle.

“We’re going to live,” Miller tells him. Monty’s grin is infectious. 

“I know,” Monty responds. 


	45. an itch to scratch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated M

Monty dabs at his forehead with the towel that Jasper tossed to him before leaving the training center. He’s getting better at sparring but he’s still not at the level he’d like to be. Monty always considered his strengths to be in his mind, but after everything they’ve been through he’s starting to realize that he should be training physically too.

But it’s exhausting. 

“Nice work today,” Miller says from a few paces away. He’s shirtless and glistening (because focusing on sparring isn’t hard enough) and Monty’s mouth feels a little dry. “With a little more practice you might actually be able to pin me,” he says.

Monty recovers from his distraction quickly. “Are you flirting with me?” he asks. 

Miller’s face lights up as he reaches for his shirt that’s balled up on a nearby bench. “Always,” Miller answers with a laugh. 

And that’s true. Miller is always flirting with Monty.

With the threat of the end of the world gone, and both of them single, Miller’s been flirting a lot. A lot a lot. So much to the point that Monty’s head starts to spin every time he realizes it. 

They might both be single but neither of them are ready for something else, not yet. It’s something they’re working on, whether it’s been voiced between them or not. 

“For now I’m okay being the one who’s pinned,” Monty says. He watches as Miller’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, as his eyes grow a little darker, and Monty ignores the heat that builds inside of him. Before Miller can say something else that makes Monty want to jump his bones here he says, “See you around, Nate.” 

But Miller’s quick. He reaches out for Monty, a soft wait on his lips. Monty pauses. “What are you doing tonight?” Miller asks. 

Maybe they’re ready for something, after all. 

* * *

They don’t call it a date despite the fact that it is definitely a date. 

When Miller’s hand reaches out for Monty’s, they lace their fingers together without even thinking about it. They walk around Arkadia and they talk and Monty feels at peace, like everything is finally making sense. When they pause toward the back of the settlement away from prying eyes, Monty knows it’s a big moment. 

“Monty,” Miller murmurs. And Monty _knows_. Miller’s callused hand travels up to cup Monty’s cheek, one of his big hands framing Monty’s face while the other holds him closer. “I still feel like I’m not allowed to want this,” he says. 

Monty understands. And he relates. “Me too. But I do.” 

Miller licks his lips. “So much,” he rasps. Miller tips Monty’s chin back. “Can I–”

Monty’s nodding and surging forward before Miller can even finish asking. _Can I kiss you? Yes, yes._ Their lips meet in the middle and Monty sighs into Miller’s mouth. He doesn’t have the most experience in the world kissing but with Miller it feels natural, like their entire time on Earth has just been leading up to this moment where they finally collide. 

There’s a low groan in Miller’s throat and Monty can’t help himself from smiling. Miller pulls back slightly with a breath of a laugh between them before dropping his forehead to Monty’s. Their noses brush. The night air is warm. Monty feels infinite. 

“Okay,” Miller manages. Monty can’t wipe his smile away, and it looks like Miller can’t either. “Okay. Uh.” 

“We should do that some more,” Monty responds. Miller agrees, and they’re kissing again in an instant. 

* * *

News of Miller and Monty getting together spreads throughout camp like lightning. It’s the most that Monty’s seen Jasper smile in weeks, genuine and sincere and full of hope. Bellamy claps Miller on the shoulder to which Miller responds with an eye roll and a smile. Harper winks in Monty’s direction and grins cheekily. 

It’s like they’ve all been waiting for this. 

Things don’t change all that much though. Instead of sitting on opposite couches when they laze around, Monty curls into Miller’s side while Miller drapes his arm around him. Instead of polite conversation at meals, Miller and Monty twist their ankles together below the table. Instead of a courteous goodnight at the end of the day, Monty follows Miller’s to his quarters where they kiss until exhaustion drags them both to sleep. 

Their friend group still functions the same. The majority of them are still healing from everything that they’ve been through. Monty and Miller just do it together. 

* * *

It’s another few weeks before Monty builds up the physical strength and skill to _actually_  pin Miller on the mat in the training room. It’s late and they’re the only two still working. Monty’s been feeling particularly frustrated lately and he can’t figure out why–so he blames it on training. 

Miller’s patient with him, teaching him all of the moves and tricks to get him onto the ground, and Monty adapts and learns easily. 

After the first time Monty pins Miller they’re both panting. Miller looks surprised, like he didn’t think Monty would ever actually be able to do it. Monty’s hands are holding Miller’s forearms up by his head and they stay like that for a moment. 

“Did you let me do that?” Monty asks. 

“No,” Miller breathes back. Monty’s straddling Miller’s hips. “I didn’t.”

But Monty’s still frustrated. He rolls off of Miller and sits up. “Let’s go again,” he says. Miller hesitates but they go again, hand-to-hand fighting before Monty gets an in again, knocking Miller’s feet out from under him. They roll a bit before Monty gets a solid grip, throwing himself over Miller’s hips again and keeping him flat against the mat. Again they’re breathing heavily. “Better,” Monty says. 

“But?” Miller questions. 

Monty isn’t sure how to answer. Because there’s something still itching under his skin that he can’t fight off. 

“Again,” Monty answers. 

Miller’s eyes are dark. 

This time Miller pins Monty first and Monty huffs in frustration. Miller’s heavier than Monty is, even with his new strength, and Monty struggles beneath the weight of him keeping him down. 

“Again?” Miller challenges. His eyes are still dark. And he’s closer than Monty would be when he’d pin Monty to the mat. Miller rocks his hips slightly over Monty’s and a gasp crawls up Monty’s throat. Miller licks his lips and Monty tries to rock his hips back against Miller’s. “Monty,” he murmurs lowly. 

Monty figures out what that itch beneath his skin is. 

He surges up and kisses Miller hard, a kiss that Miller responds to without hesitation. No matter how Monty shifts his body or pulls Miller’s clothes closer, it’s not enough. It’s not enough. 

Frustration overwhelms him again and with a burst of energy he rolls them on the mat, pinning Miller again beneath him. Their hands and arms cup each other’s heads, the back of their necks, glide along shoulders, but its still not enough. “Nate,” Monty pleads. “Can we…” 

Miller’s eyes lift to the training room around the same time Monty pulls back, sitting up. They hurry to their feet silently before their hands find one another. They barely manage to remember to flick off the lights in the training room before they’re racing down the hallways of Arkadia on a path to Miller’s quarters. 

It’s a good thing Miller moved out of living with David, and moved again after his old relationship ended. This new space is going to be theirs, just theirs, and the thrill of knowing what’s coming next makes Monty’s entire body feel hot. 

The door to Miller’s quarters is barely shut before Miller’s on him again, pressing Monty backwards and kissing him as though he’s been waiting a long time for this moment too. His hands don’t stop this time like they had in the training room. Instead Miller tugs hard on the hem of Monty’s shirt and arches an eyebrow. When Monty nods, Miller pulls Monty’s shirt up and over his head. 

Monty fumbles to do the same for Miller and soon they’re both shirtless, skin against skin, Miller’s body against Monty’s as they kiss. 

It’s all so much. And Monty wants so much more. But.

“Nate, I–” Monty’s hands stop on his shoulders, not pushing Miller away but preventing him from coming closer again. Miller’s eyes are still dark and Monty knows he wants this so deeply, and Monty does too. But the nerves are coming out of his woodwork now, climbing through his veins and stopping this before it’s started. “I haven’t–I’ve never…” he trails off before looking at Miller through his bangs. They’re both flushed, they’re still so close. “Not with a guy.” 

He waits. For the smirk. For the laugh that comes along when the geeky, nerdy, tech-loving boy from Agro Station hasn’t ever been with a boy, not past a kiss or two. And Miller’s so _much_. He’s had a serious boyfriend, he’s done things. He’s got _experience_. He’s certainly made it past this moment.

But it doesn’t come. Instead Miller pulls back, his face full of concern. “Am I going too fast? Should we stop?” 

“No, no.” Monty shakes his head immediately. God, now he wants Miller _more_. His entire body is humming. “I just–I’m not–” his hands fall back so Miller can lean in again. “I don’t…” 

Miller reaches up, cupping Monty’s cheek. “You do what feels good,” he says lowly. “What you do to yourself, but with me.” Miller licks his lips and the motion makes Monty’s chest feet hot. Everything feels hot. “If you feel good then you say so and we keep going. If not–you don’t even have to say anything, baby. We’ll stop. Okay?” Monty nods. “Good plan?”

“Great plan,” Monty responds with a strangled whisper. 

Miller kisses him again, this time much gentler than before, and Monty feels like he’s moments from melting into the ground. But Miller’s hands are firm and he pulls Monty away from the door, guiding him back toward the bed. 

When Miller starts kissing down Monty’s neck, Monty falls backwards into the pillows. It’s so much. Miller’s stubble scrapes across Monty’s skin and his hands wander farther down Monty’s body until they find the waistband of Monty’s shorts.

“Yes?” Miller breathes. 

“Yes,” Monty confirms. 

Instead of shimmying them down Monty’s legs, Miller’s hand just eases inside of Monty’s shorts until they find him already achingly hard. Monty’s breath catches his throat and he arches slightly. And again, _Yes? Yes, yes, yes._ Miller wraps his hand around him and tugs and Monty forgets how to think. There’s only Miller’s hand around his cock and Miller’s mouth sucking bruises into his neck and the weight of Miller’s body over him. 

It doesn’t take long for Monty to come, and once he does crying Miller’s name the world shifts slightly back into focus. Miller’s smiling against Monty’s throat, Monty can feel it. 

“Feeling better?” Miller asks. 

Monty tries not to laugh. His eyelids are heavy and his body is warm and he’s in Miller’s bed with Miller beside him and that desperate itch beneath his skin is gone. 

It takes a few tries but Monty figures out how to speak again. “Yeah.” And then Miller’s kissing him again, first up his jaw and across his chin but then their lips meet once more. Monty has never felt so dazed, so at ease. 

“Monty,” Miller whispers between them. “Do you mind if I…” he trails off. Monty’s attention snags on Miller’s hand that isn’t cupping Monty’s cheek, but is pushed against his own crotch. 

“Crap,” Monty breaths. He sits up slowly, his body not allowing him to move any faster. “I wasn’t–I–”

“It’s okay,” Miller says with a smile, and Monty knows it’s true. “You’re learning.”

But Monty learns best with hands-on experience. He meets Miller’s gaze and says, “Lay down.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Miller tells him.

“Don’t make me pin you again,” Monty threatens, but it’s bright. “Lay _down_.” Miller’s already breathless just from a look and Monty feels powerful. He swings his body so he’s flat on his back and Monty kisses him firmly before crawling down his body. He kisses slowly down Miller’s chest before reaching his shorts which he’s already straining against, and after a jerky nod from Miller, Monty pulls his shorts and boxers down in one. “I’m new at this,” Monty reminds him with a voice that isn’t his own. 

Miller’s already gripping the sheets. “It’ll be… more than enough,” he manages. 

Monty licks him once, and Miller full-body shivers in response. 

Like Miller said, Monty’s learning. But Miller’s all breathy gasps and strangled cuss words and _Monty, yes baby, there, Monty, fuck_ , so Monty tends to think he’s doing a good job. It’s sloppy and wet and Monty pulls away when Miller comes, spilling between them. 

They use Miller’s shorts to clean up before tossing them to the side, then Monty wiggles out of his own before crawling back up to his boyfriend. 

“Feeling better?” Monty teases, mocking Miller’s question from earlier.

Miller sinks backwards into the pillows, wearing the same lazy smile that Monty wore earlier. “I love you,” Miller answers. 

Monty’s grin threatens to split his face in two. “I love _you_ ,” Monty echoes, his voice a few pitches too high. 

He nuzzles back down into Miller’s side, skin against skin, sated and happy, before the two of them fall asleep together. 

* * *

They’re demonstrating the move to a bunch of younger kids in training a few weeks later, how to pin someone and how to get out of someone’s hold. Mostly it’s just in case there’s a rouge Grounder not respecting the treaty that takes them and they need to find a way out of someone’s hold. 

Monty pins Miller on the mat, his hips over Miller’s, while the kids all gasp and laugh. 

“Don’t get any ideas, Green,” Miller murmurs wickedly. “We’ve got an audience.”

Still, Miller wiggles a little, and Monty gets easily distracted. “Are you flirting with me?” Monty asks. “ _Now_?”

“Always,” Miller answers with a grin. “I’ll make this up to you later,” Miller tells him before effectively getting out of Monty’s hold with a little more force than necessary.

The kids cheer and start to pair up so they can practice. Miller winks at his boyfriend from across the room. 

Monty can’t wait to leave the training room. 


	46. better when it's real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday katelyn!!

Miller was squeezing Monty’s hand just a little too hard. 

“Nate,” Monty said lowly. “Look at me.” It took a lot of effort for Miller to lift his eyes away from where they were focused, off in the distance, and look at Monty. “He’s an asshole,” Monty said.

Miller managed a laugh, though it was strangled. “Yeah he is.” 

“Good thing you have a new, incredibly good-looking and smart boyfriend,” Monty said. Miller laughed a little again, a little more sincerely. “Fake boyfriend,” Monty added, a touch softer, “but whatever.” 

Miller squeezed Monty’s hand another time, but this time in thanks.

Bryan broke up with him. It was a month ago at this point but Miller was still struggling. He waited months to even _find_  Bryan, the fact that he’d ended things just after they got out of a war with AI and Grounders and whatever else, it _sucked_. Monty swooped in, not willing to watch his friend suffer after everything they’d been through, and they’d been fake dating ever since. 

**

Monty never really stopped to think about why he’d decided to be Miller’s fake boyfriend so quickly. He’d been at the beginning of something with Harper when it had all happened and somehow, Miller’s needs and mental health had been Monty’s first concern.

In the weeks that followed, Monty figured it out.

It was because he was in love with him. 

Monty was painfully in love with Miller and it was the only thing he could think to do when Miller was brokenhearted and sad was stand in and be that thing that Miller needed.

It had been a little over a month and Monty was still there, holding Miller’s hand, willing Miller to be a little less broken than before. 

“I knew it, you know,” Monty heard. He was working in his studio, trying to get some sort of plumbing system set up, when he heard Bryan’s voice. Miller’s ex-boyfriend was standing in the doorway, looking both a little sad and happy all at once. “That there was something going on with you two.” 

Monty startled. “What?”

“You and Nate,” Bryan said. “I’m… glad. That you’re both happy.”

Bryan left him in the silence, confused.

**

By the fire, Miller was holding Monty’s hand again. Their friends were all drunk and Monty was distracted, thinking about what Bryan had said to him earlier. “Nate,” he said gently. Miller hummed in response. His thumb was brushing over Monty’s knuckles. “We’ve never kissed,” he said.

Miller turned to look at him. “We haven’t,” he agreed.

“That’s a thing fake boyfriends do,” Monty said. 

Miller hesitated. “That’s a thing _real_ boyfriends do,” he responded. 

Monty looked toward the fire. “Yeah. That’s true.” And that’s what they weren’t. But Bryan’s comment was lingering in Monty’s mind. “Never mind.”

Miller caught Monty’s cheek with his freehand and pulled him up for a kiss before Monty could even realize it. Their met gently and Monty sighed, both confused and relieved at once. When they parted after only a beat, Miller rested his forehead on Monty’s. 

“It’s better when it’s real,” he murmured. “Isn’t it?”

“A lot better,” Monty agreed softly. 


	47. feelings

Monty did not have time for feelings.

Okay, that wasn’t completely true. Excitement was eating him alive ever since he boarded the drop ship (despite that small burst of panic that threatened to suffocate him when they started free-falling). His first steps on earth had been shrouded in joy. His first breath of air was overwhelming happiness.

So, sure, Monty certainly had time for _those_  feelings. It was the, like, romantic feelings he didn’t have time for. It was a shame, really, considering he was unleashed on an untouched planet with a whole bunch of horny teenagers, but whatever.

Earth was brilliant, and that was all Monty had time to focus on at the moment. 

The greens were more green than they had the right to be, the blues overwhelmingly blue. The girls were pretty, the boys were handsome, and Earth felt like anything was possible. 

Again, except feelings. 

“You could have _anyone_ ,” Jasper lamented as Monty tinkered away at the radio. “Anyone! You’re, like, a genius. Helping keep us alive. People dig it.”

“Too busy,” Monty responded. 

“Ugh.” Jasper groaned deeply but didn’t push. They’d been friends for their entire lives, Jasper knew what lines not to cross. “Hey, Miller,” Jasper called. The boy standing guard at the door of the drop ship looked over his shoulder at Jasper, looking bored and unamused. (Monty clung to the good feelings like they were his lifeline – Miller didn’t seem to ever smile.) He readjusted his gun in his hands and arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t Monty a catch?” he asked.

Miller’s eyes swept toward Monty. His face remained blank. “Sure,” he said. 

“Really appreciate the vote of confidence,” Monty said back. Miller smirked. Monty guessed that was close to happiness, maybe. A smirk. Like, evil-happiness. Happiness in someone else’s annoyance. That felt right. “Just because you’re hell bent on getting laid,” Monty said to his friend, ignoring Miller who turned back to keep up his post, “doesn’t mean we all are.”

“Miller,” Jasper called again. “I have another question.”

Monty tried not to groan and instead buried himself in his work. “What is it, Jordan?” Miller asked.

“If you could bang anyone on Earth right now,” he said, “would you do it?” 

Monty’s eyes flickered up for a moment, then back down before he could meet Miller’s gaze. “No,” he answered. Monty looked up again, surprised at the evenness of his voice. “My boyfriend wouldn’t like that very much, I don’t think.”

“Ugh, a criminal with morals,” Jasper muttered. 

“You have a boyfriend?” Monty asked.

“Bryan Carter,” Miller answered. He popped his shoulder into a shrug. “Good luck on your hopeless sex-quest, though.”

No, Monty didn’t have time for feelings.

* * *

If Monty had ever felt something other than fear, he couldn’t figure out what it was or when. There was nothing but a white room and the faint sound of classical music and it was suffocating. Fear was crawling across his ribs, snaking it’s way into his veins, clinging tight to him in desperation. 

It was so thick he couldn’t breathe. _Remember the way the planet smells_ , Monty tried to think, but no feelings surface. _Remember Jasper’s laugh_ , he tried, and again there was nothing. No hope, no lingering happiness, just the deep fear that was etching itself into his bones.

And then there was relief. 

He’d been led to a room, the first one there, that slowly filled up with friend after friend. Harper and Fox and Jasper, they were all there. They were alive, and he could breathe, and Monty forget that fear was something that could be so dark. 

Clarke arrived soon after, and then Miller was there, and they were safe. (Safe wasn’t a feeling, but if it was it would be a mix between happiness and hope.) 

* * *

Monty wondered if Miller ever smiled. 

Monty himself was always trying so hard to be positive, to spread positivity, that a boy who never smiled felt impossible. It was eating him alive, really (anxious?), that they’d made it this far in life and he’d yet to see Miller smile. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever even seen Miller been kind. He was always angry, always blunt. 

“Do you smile?” Monty asked him one night at Mount Weather. They were sitting across the table from one another, Miller’s fork halfway to his mouth with a bite of cake on it, when he froze. “Just curious.”

“Do I smile?” Miller echoed. He lowered his fork. “The hell kind of question is that, Green?”

“I’ve just never seen you smile.”

“No offense,” he said, “but I’ve yet to find a reason to do so.” Monty frowned at that (disappointment) and needed more of an elaboration. “We’ve been fighting a war since the day we arrived,” Miller told him. First with each other, then with Grounders. Miller shook his head at Monty. “Clarke’s missing. Bellamy’s probably dead. Why should I be smiling?”

Monty felt deflated. 

“We’re alive,” he said. “Isn’t that enough?”

Miller looked disgusted. “No.”

* * *

Monty knew he had work to do but he was distracted (again, not a feeling, but if it was it would be the color gray). He’d heard that Miller was a thief, sure, but watching the boy pick a lock like he’d been best friends with the thing and known all about it for forever was mesmerizing. 

He was trying to get research off a computer and Miller was looking for schematics, but Monty was unfocused. By the time Miller found something Monty was finally getting to work, getting something done. 

(Monty did not have time for feelings.)

The relief that hit him when they found photos of Clarke was overwhelming and yellow. The happiness that followed that the Ark had landed, the excitement, it overtook him. 

And then they were sitting on a bunk, just Miller and Monty, their knees knocking, when Monty felt his heart shift inside of his chest. 

“You’re from Alpha,” Monty said. “Right?”

Miller nodded. “My dad was chief guard,” he told Monty. There was a fake sort of laugh, an emptiness of words, when Miller said, “He sure loved having a thief for a kid.”

“Hey,” Monty nudged him. “You’re a great thief.”

That was when it happened–Miller smiled. 

It wasn’t even the sort of smile that was forced, it wasn’t a smile that barely passed as one. It was a full-blown, teeth-baring, breathless-laugh smile. It lit up Miller’s entire face. Monty’s breath got caught in his throat.

It was overwhelming. It was nerve-wracking, it was surprising, it was joyful.

(Monty did not have time for feelings.)

(Feelings did not care what Monty did or did not have time for.)

* * *

It became a game.

Well, after the war on Mount Weather anyway. 

(The fear came back full blast, heavy and dark, and Monty powered through.)

But after that, it became a game. Jasper wouldn’t talk to him and Monty felt utterly alone, so get Miller to smile. That was it. Just try and get him to smile. Monty found himself clinging to Miller’s moments of happiness over his own because this angry, tough boy found ways to let light shine through anyway. And that was beautiful, God it was beautiful. 

Many of them were half-mast smiles, faked because he knew Monty was trying to get one out of him. But there were real ones too. Like the one in Mount Weather. Smiles that consumed Miller’s entire face. They were smiles so warm and bright that they nestled between Monty’s bones and reminded him what happiness felt like. (Like the first days on Earth.)

“You think Agro’s out there?” Monty asked one night as they sat by the fire.

Miller shrugged. “Maybe.”

“That’s a horrible answer.”

“It was a vague question,” Miller responded. “I mean, it’s out there. But are they alive? Who the fuck knows? Not me.” 

“You’re bad at being hopeful,” Monty told him. Miller shrugged another time. “Humor me, Miller.”

Miller took a long, dramatic sigh (Miller was dramatic, who would’ve guessed?) and turned to look at Monty. It was more than his smiles that Monty wanted more of, it was looks like this. Looks where he could _see_  the hope in Miller’s eyes, whether he’d voice it or not. Gentle gazes that reflected the entire universe. 

“Ask me again,” Miller said.

Without breaking his gaze, “Do you think Agro’s out there?” 

“Yeah, Monty,” he answered. “I do.”

* * *

Monty did not have time for feelings. 

(Admiration at Miller’s lack of giving up. Joy at Miller winking at him from across the room. Thankfulness at Miller’s steady presence.) 

They kept coming anyway. 

It wasn’t until that trip on the rover, the music blasting, Monty’s heart beating a thousand miles an hour in his chest, did he let them overwhelm him. _Something won’t let me make love to you_ , Miller sang, which resulted in happiness brighter than the sun. 

Followed by nerves, and fear, and disappointment, all at once 

“Monty’s parents are from Agro,” Bellamy said. “So is Miller’s boyfriend.”

* * *

It was easier to squash good feelings with negative feelings than to acknowledge those good feelings weren’t going anywhere. 

Happiness at Miller being around turned to annoyance at the sight of him. Frustration was easier to swallow than disappointment at Miller’s relief. Feelings were complicated and stressful and seeing Miller with Bryan, it hurt like a punch to the chest. (Monty couldn’t figure out why.) (Yes he could.)

* * *

Remembering those first moments on Earth became more difficult as every day passed. The betrayal of his mother turned Monty’s vision black. The murder of his mother turned his hands red. Everything hurt, everything hurt, everything hurt.

And hearing Miller murmur soft things to his boyfriend, things like _we’re okay_  and _we’re going to be okay_  and _I love you_  made it so much worse.

So when Harper kissed him, he kissed her back and let her drag him to bed.

(Monty still did not have time for feelings.)

* * *

Harper wanted more than Monty could give her.

There used to be things like hope inside of him, bright and ever-growing, or happiness, warm and transferable to anyone else. But something had been stolen from him in this other war, and the fact that they were still fighting continued to crush his spirit further. 

Miller settled into step beside Monty as they made their trek to the safe-zone. Monty wasn’t sure if he remember what it was like to feel safe. 

“Do you smile?” Miller asked. Monty frowned at him, purposefully so. “Just curious.”

“You’re not funny,” Monty answered. 

“Oh–sorry, did you think I was trying to make a joke?” Miller nudged him with his elbow a little. “C’mon, Monty. We’re alive. Isn’t that enough?”

His voice felt small. “Not all of us,” he whispered. 

His mother was dead. Monroe was dead. Lincoln was dead. Pike was dead. And though Miller refused to talk about it, so was Bryan, infection from a gunshot wound stealing him as well. 

“I didn’t say all of us,” Miller told him. “I said we’re. We. As in, you and I.” Monty shook his head, so tired, so empty. “Not enough?”

“Not enough,” Monty whispered back. 

They were silent for another hundred feet. “Will it be?” Miller asked. “Enough? Eventually?”

Monty thought about it. “Eventually,” he answered.

“Then I’ll wait.”

* * *

It used to be easy to cling to good feelings, easier to smother them in darkness. Monty hadn’t been prepared at the fear that came with things like hope or joy. Fear it would be snatched from him again, fear someone would rip it out from inside of him. 

But they were safe for now, inside and underground, with clean water and a stable society with a stable peace between those who remained of the Ark and the Grounders. If Jasper could relearn and embrace happiness, if Raven could smile with Clarke and Bellamy by her side, then Monty could do it too.

Baby-steps.

A laugh without fear or falling. A smile without the need to wipe it away. He was clinging so hard to his own well-being he was afraid he would break under the weight of it. 

“Saw that,” Miller said, dropping into the seat beside him.

“Saw what?” Monty asked.

“You smile.” There was an urge, then, to smile again, but Monty fought it. “Give in,” Miller said, leaning in close. “I know you want to.”

“Go away,” Monty tried to say. But the smile was growing, slow and steady, and Miller looked victorious. 

“I know you want to,” Miller urged.

“Stop it,” Monty tried. But it was too late, because it was there, small and fragile, but a smile nonetheless. He looked down, trying to hold it on his face, trying to fight the urge to push it away. “How do you do it?” he asked.

“Do what?” Miller asked.

“I don’t know,” Monty said. “Live?”

Miller nudged him slightly. “You look at where we’ve been,” he said. “And you see where we are.” Monty glanced around their hall, crowded and cluttered and dark considering they were underground, but still warm, somehow. “You see what you’ve overcome,” Miller told him. “And you keep going.”

“I like that,” Monty said. 

“I like you,” Miller responded carefully. The openness of it shocked Monty into silence. “I wish I could do something to bring back that boy,” Miller said. “Teasing me about being a great thief.” Monty still didn’t know what to say. Miller stood slowly, his hand gentle on Monty’s shoulder. “I know he’s in there, still. Different, but still there.”

“Miller–”

“I’m here if you need to talk.”

* * *

Living underground, setting up a stable system, they were natural things that happened. But the spare time in between, the hours up at night, what else was he supposed to do but _feel_?

He let hope suffocate him, and he let excitement light his bones on fire, and he let happiness flood his lungs. 

Finding Miller the next day was easy enough. He spent a lot of time in the make-shift library when he wasn’t on patrol, reading old novels and plays in his spare time. He stood when Monty entered, lowering his book and arching a curious eyebrow.

“Do you still think I’m a catch?” Monty asked.

Miller smiled. Not bright and loud, but still enough that it left Monty a little stunned. 

“Always have,” Miller told him.

When they kissed, Monty still wasn’t sure how Miller managed to weasel his way into Monty’s heart. But he could figure that out later.

Monty had nothing but time for feelings.


	48. gargalesthesia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the sensation caused by tickling

When Miller and Bryan had been together, Miller had gotten used to sharing a bed with someone else. When the world more or less ended and the two of them called it quits, Miller had to go back to sleeping alone. So maybe it was a bit of a rush to move in with Monty after they started dating, but Miller slept better with someone by his side, and Monty didn’t seem to mind. 

“You’re like, a portable heater,” Monty murmured one morning, winding himself around his boyfriend. Miller hummed, turning to kiss Monty’s forehead. “How do you not sweat to death?”

“Because you’re a portable freezer,” Miller countered. Monty was _always_  cold, pressing his cold fingers and cold toes against Miller’s bare skin in an attempt to warm himself up. “Balances things out.”

“Mmm.” 

Monty nuzzled closer, his cold hand slipping under Miller’s shirt and easing up his spine, causing Miller to jump. “Stop,” he blurt, shying away from Monty’s hand.

“Too cold?”

“No,” Miller said. “I’m just–no.” Monty opened one of his eyes and squinted at Miller in the morning light. “I’m ticklish,” he muttered, internally groaning at the smile that split Monty’s face in half at this information. “Don’t,” Miller warned.

“Don’t what?” Monty teased, returning his hand to Miller’s back. 

“Baby,” Miller tried. “ _Stop,”_ he laughed as Monty’s hands squeezed at Miller’s sides, causing him to squirm. Miller rolled, still laughing, and swung his hips over Monty’s to keep him pinned to the mattress. “I don’t like being tickled,” Miller said before bending down to kiss him.

“Noted,” Monty returned with a grin. 


	49. picture frames

“Ow, ow, ow!” Monty shoved himself away from the frame he was working on and shook his hand dramatically, lifting his finger to study it. “Crap.”

The delinquents were huddled in a bunker on their journey to some sort of Haven, and Monty wanted to build a picture frame. There was an excess of wood, and all of the photos he had kept getting crumpled or ruined in the journey. He just wanted something to keep a photo straight and secure.

“You okay?” Miller asked, lowering the book he’d found and looking to Monty. 

He was close enough that Monty didn’t need to stand, just sort of slide across the floor to him. “Help,” Monty murmured, thrusting his finger in Miller’s direction. “I have a _splinter_.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Miller teased. Monty frowned and Miller laughed, grabbing Monty’s wrist gently and turning it until he had access to Monty’s fingertips. “So used to working with metal and wires you forget that wood could hurt you?”

“Shush.” Monty yanked his hand out of Miller’s grasp. “I’m going to Clarke.”

“Ah, ah,” Miller reached out for him and kept him from sliding away. “Lemme do it.” Monty sighed, easing toward Miller and extending his hand again, while Miller called for Clarke to bring him a pair of tweezers. While they waited Miller lifted Monty’s hand, pressing a soft kiss to Monty’s fingertips. “Be more careful,” he murmured. 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Miller looked at him seriously. “Any sort of infection could make it that much easier–”

“I know, Nate,” Monty stopped him gently. They all knew the world was ending. “I’ll be more careful.” After a beat. “I was making a picture frame.” 

“God, you’re cute.”

Clarke delivered the tweezers, looking both fond and suspicious of the of the two of them, before keeping a safe distance so Miller could work. It wasn’t too difficult to dislodge the splinter but Monty whined anyway. Once the small piece of wood was out of his finger Miller lifted Monty’s hand, kissing his fingertips again. 

“I’ll take a break,” Monty said, studying his fingers as Miller set the tweezers aside. 

Miller swung his arm over Monty’s shoulder and pulled him close as he opened his book again. “Good.”

Monty nuzzled into Miller’s side, his eyes on the page Miller had open. “Read to me?” Monty asked quietly. 

Miller dipped, pressing a kiss to Monty’s forehead, before he started reading aloud. Their trip was a long one, but as long as they still had moments like this then they would be okay.


	50. monty joins the guard

It doesn’t matter that the war is over and the threat of radiation is in the past, things are still dangerous. The need for the guard is just as big as it used to be, especially now that rogue Grounders think it’s fun to target Arkadia to get out their rage and animals got weird as fuck with the last bit of acid rain and will attack unprovoked. 

So yes. More people for the guard is always necessary. But Monty Green is not allowed to be one of those people.

Miller holds tight to the piece of paper in his hand and marches through their new campsite, clenching his jaw and refusing to make eye contact with anyone he passes. It doesn’t take long for Miller to find Monty’s cabin, it’s on the outskirts of everything because, as Monty claims, “Crazy mad scientists like their quiet.” 

Two knocks later, Monty opens the door, and Miller pushes his way in without knocking. 

“What the hell is this?” he snaps, thrusting the paper in Monty’s direction. “No.”

Monty frowns, seeing as he has no idea what’s on the paper, and turns a nice shade of pink when he finds his name listed on the training schedule that Miller snatched off of his father’s desk. 

“No what?” Monty asks.

“No,” Miller stresses, “you are not needed on the fucking guard. Withdraw your name.”

Monty rolls his eyes and turns his back on Miller, heading toward his table that’s piled with a billion wires and circuit boards. “You’re always talking about how we need more people for the guard,” Monty says dismissively. He drops the piece of paper on the table before lowering himself into his chair to tinker. “So I signed up.”

“Withdraw. Your. Name.”

Monty points at him. “Can’t do that.” 

Frustration bubbles in Miller’s stomach. “Yes you can,” he says simply, trying not to snap. Working for the guard is too dangerous, and maybe Monty’s been through a lot but he’s not a fucking soldier. His talents are somewhere else, probably scattered somewhere on the table in front of him. “People drop out of the guard all the time.”

Monty gestures grandly. “Which is why I can’t. Thank you, point made, and I didn’t even have to do it myself.” Miller swallows tightly, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, and slowly eases his hands from fists. “Anything else I can help you with?” Monty asks, smiling too brightly after being snapped at by Nathan Miller. 

The secret is this: Nathan Miller worries more than he lets on. And he worries about Monty most.

How they managed to survive this long on earth is a fucking mystery in itself, no way is Miller going to let Monty chance it by _joining the fucking guard_.

“It’s dangerous,” Miller says.

“Yes,” Monty agrees.

“You have other things to do,” Miller presses.

“Since when is working for the guard a 24/7 job?” Monty asks. Miller rakes his hands over his face and tries to find another reason to get Monty to stop this, but his brain hasn’t been working entirely since he saw Monty’s name on the list. “Nate,” Monty says. Because Monty calls him that now, post-war, and all. Miller’s heart stumbles. “You’re not the only delinquent who knows how to shoot a gun,” Monty says.

And he says it so fondly that Miller has to take a moment to breathe. 

“I never said that you didn’t know how to shoot a gun,” Miller says. “I’m just _saying_  that there are other people who can work for the guard. Because we need people like you, you specifically, working with Raven to improve camp.”

“What,” Monty challenges, “you think I’ll be tired after standing on my feet for too long that my brain will give out?”  _Mine does_ , Miller grumbles internally. Miller strides toward him and snatches the paper off of Monty’s table, knowing he needs to return it to his father’s desk. “Where’d you get that anyway?” Monty asks as Miller starts for the door. “Thought your days of thievery were behind you.” 

“Quit the guard,” Miller urges one last time.

“Nope!”

Miller slams the door as he leaves.

* * *

“Can’t you just, tell someone that they’re not qualified?” Miller asks, leaning over his father’s shoulder as he scribbles down notes on a clipboard. “The answer is yes,” Miller says. “Considering you’re chief guard. You have that right.”

“Nathan,” David murmurs before clicking his tongue. “Monty is highly qualified.” Miller’s trying very, very hard not to pout. He’s twenty-two years old for crying out loud. It shouldn’t be that hard not to pout. “You weren’t this concerned when Bryan joined the guard all that time ago,” David notes, and that’s it, Miller’s pouting.

“For starters,” Miller says, “That was years ago.”

“Hmm.”

“And secondly,” Miller presses. “It’s different.”

“You’re right,” David agrees. “Because Bryan was your boyfriend and your concern levels were much lower than they are for Monty, who is not your boyfriend.” Miller is going to pout at his father for the rest of his goddamn life. “Nathan,” David says gently. “Monty is a good fighter. And he’s very sharp. We need sharp people.”

“I will take all of his goddamn shifts,” Miller grunts. 

“No you will not,” David says, marking something else on his clipboard. “Considering you two will be working together a lot.”

“I hate you,” Miller says, moving for the door. “You’re the worst chief guard ever, you know.”

“Sure, son.” 

* * *

“This one’s the trigger,” Monty says, holding up his gun, “right?” 

“ _You are the worst_ ,” Miller mutters under his breath. Monty grins, dimples and all, and Miller redirects his gaze toward the woods. The guard isn’t, like, _super_  dangerous. But it’s dangerous enough that Monty shouldn’t be doing it. “I’m mad at you,” he says.

“That’s evident in the way you’re not talking to me,” Monty says. Still grinning. “But hey, at least you admitted it instead of pretending you weren’t?”

“The guard is dangerous,” Miller snaps. “And I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Monty’s smile flickers a little. “You’ve been on the guard since you were 18, Nate. You think I haven’t spent time worrying about you?” Miller lets out a long deep breath before glancing over at Monty, who’s looking at him very seriously. “And you’ve been fine. So trust that I will be too.”

And it’s not that Miller doesn’t trust Monty, it’s that Miller doesn’t trust this godforsaken planet. He’s watched friends die and people crumple under acid rain and everything can be so unexpected. He doesn’t want to worry about Monty in that sense. He doesn’t want to think about Monty dying. Because they’ve made it out, they’re done with the death, and some mistake on the guard is not the way he’s going to go.

“If you die,” Miller says, turning on him, “by working on this guard, instead of like–fucking electrocution–or in your sleep when you’re old as fuck– I’m going to be pissed.”

Monty’s smile returns full force. “Noted.”

* * *

The booming laugh that comes from his father’s office is so startling that Miller actually slows in his walk. It’s not like David has a lot of friends other than Kane and Abby maybe, who are too busy sucking face these days to be Great Friends, and Miller doesn’t want to interrupt his father is having a good time.

“I’m serious,” Monty’s voice rings through the hallway, from his father’s office, and Miller speeds up at once. 

When he enters David’s office he finds his father bent over the desk, tears of mirth in his eyes, trying to stop laughing. Miller frowns. Monty beams.

“Nathan,” David cheers when he sees his son, still wiping his eyes. “Monty is _funny_. Did you know that?” 

Miller’s frown deepens. “I’m not a fan of whatever’s happening,” he says to the two of them. Monty’s smile, like usual, brightens tenfold. “At all.”

“Don’t be sour,” Monty says, crossing the room to him. “I was telling him about that time with the jobi nuts?” Miller suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, because _why does his father need to know about that_. “He seems to think you’re not very good at having fun,” Monty says, waggling his finger in Miller’s direction. Miller’s dark expression does not change. “Alright,” Monty says holding his hands up, finally getting the message. “Got it. Gone. Nice to see you Chief Miller.”

“Please, call me David,” David calls out as Monty waves over his shoulder, easing his way past Miller looking considerably guilty. Miller waits until Monty is far away before turning, shutting the door to his father’s office, and turning back to look at him. David smiles sweetly. “I like him, that Monty.”

“Wonderful,” Miller mutters. 

David leans back in his chair. “It’s good news, Nathan,” his father says. “Now you know that when you finally ask him out, I approve.”

“I’m leaving.”

* * *

Raven snorts into her shot glass and laughs into his hand when Miller relays the story to them. Clarke was not invited because she’s too good of friends with Monty, and likes to pry into everyone else’s lives, so just Raven and Bellamy it is.

“Monty and your dad are bonding, Miller,” Raven says. “It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute, and I regret inviting you.”

Bellamy laughs again, shaking his head at his friend. “Maybe he’s trying to prove himself,” Bellamy offers. “I mean, to be fair, a lot of us are more physical fight-like than he is. Maybe he thinks you’re into that.”

“After I explicitly told him to leave the guard?” Miller asks. “No.” He lifts his shot glass and downs his drink quickly. “I’m not overreacting,” he says to his friends. “The guard is dangerous.”

“It is,” Bellamy agrees. 

“And Monty not figuring out that your concern is not platonic is entirely his fault,” Raven pushes on. 

“Just talk to him,” Bellamy says, ignoring Raven’s unhelpful comments. “Monty cares about you. Maybe not the same way, but–who can be sure unless you say something?” 

“Sure,” Raven says. “He’ll say something about his feelings for Monty when you say something about your feelings for Clarke.”

“That’s unrelated,” Bellamy says.

“Friends who have sex sometimes but care about each other more than the sex is not an official relationship title, Bellamy,” Raven carries on. 

“I hate this entire conversation,” Miller says, motioning for another drink. 

* * *

Miller’s not on-shift with Monty when Monty gets hurt. Because of course he’s not. Because the universe fucking hates him.

Miller finds out that rogue Grounders set off a fucking bomb while he’s in the library reading. Because that’s where he should’ve been, right? Reading while Monty was getting hurt? Yeah, no. Fuck. No.

He sprints across camp, looking toward the flames in the distance that a group is already working to put out, and hurries to the med bay desperate for news. He shoulders his way past people who are probably training to be doctors or something and worries until he finds Monty sitting in one of the beds. Jasper’s by his side, fussing over a bandage wrapped around Monty’s head, and Miller feels like he can’t breathe.

Miller marches in their direction. “What. Did I. Say.”

Monty holds his hands up in defeat, smiling softly. “I’m not dead,” he says.

Jasper makes himself scarce. 

“I don’t give a fuck that you’re not dead, Monty, I–”

“Oh, come on,” Monty cuts him off. “You care at least a _little_  that I’m not dead.”

MIller’s chest feels like one of Monty’s circuit boards, wires with nowhere to go always sending off electric sparks. “You’re an idiot,” Miller rasps.

“Yeah, yeah.”

He reaches up for the bandage by Monty’s head but his fingers falter at the last minute. “Tell me you’re quitting,” he pushes on. “Tell me you’re quitting the guard.”

Monty sighs. “Nate.” 

“Please.” Miller looks him square in the eye. “Please, Monty. I’m losing my fucking mind worrying about you. Please quit the guard.” Next thing he knows Monty’s squeezing his hand, looking back at Miller with wide eyes. “The idea of losing you…” Miller carries on, acutely aware of where they are and how many people are around them. “Just.”

“Yeah,” Monty whispers. “I’ll–quit the guard.” 

When Miller lets out a deep breath, he feels the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. 

He stays at Monty’s side until he’s cleared. 

* * *

Miller’s on his couch with another book when there’s a soft knock at the door to his cabin. His first thought is that it’s probably Murphy wanting some alcohol, and his second is Bellamy, and he most certainly does not expect to see Monty when he opens the door. His forehead bandage is gone but there’re stitches in place of it. 

“Can I come in?” Monty asks. “Or do I need to show you my resignation letter first?”

Miller arches an eyebrow. “You wrote a resignation letter?”

“I like to be official.” 

Miller opens the door wider for him and Monty enters with a soft smile, striding past Miller for the couch that he lowers himself on. Monty looks at the book that Miller set aside before turning back to face him, not having said much. 

“You okay?” Miller asks. “Besides, you know.”

“Yeah! Yes. Definitely. But.” Monty fidgets in his seat, and Miller slowly lowers himself to the spot beside him. “I might have done a thing,” Monty says. 

“A thing,” Miller echoes.

“Yes.” He looks at Miller, then away, and Miller nudges him with his elbow. “I joined the guard so I could get to know your dad,” Monty says.

Miller blinks a few times. “What?” 

Monty sighs, dropping his head carefully into his hands to avoid his new cut. “I know that your dad never really liked Bryan that much,” Monty says, his words muffled. “And I thought if I made a good impression, then maybe–”

“Wait, wait,” Miller stops him. “Bryan? Why is he relevant–”

Monty lifts his head. “Because I want to date you.” 

They sit in awkward silence for a moment. “You joined the guard,” Miller finally says, “to make a good impression on my dad, because you want to date me?” 

“Yeah,” Monty answers. “That’s–that’s about it. Yeah.”

“And nearly got killed in the fucking process?” Miller blurts, his voice louder than intended. “You nearly–!”

A laugh bubbles out of Monty. “I’m fine!” 

“You could’ve died!” Miller reaches out for him, his hands resting on Monty’s shoulders. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Monty insists, his voice suddenly tight. Miller is a lot closer now, and Monty is a fucking idiot. “I’m fine,” he says again. 

Miller licks his lips because some part of his brain tells him that’s a good idea. “My dad really likes you,” he says after another beat of silence. 

Monty smiles. And God, Miller loves it when Monty smiles. “Yeah?” 

“Probably not as much as _I_ like you,” Miller notes. “But–”

Monty leans forward, stealing the kiss that Miller was taking too long to give. Even with all the signs there, and the leaning, and the closeness, Miller’s still completely surprised by this kiss. It takes his mouth a few moments to realize what’s happening before he kisses Monty back, sliding his hands from Monty’s shoulders to cup his cheeks instead and pull him closer.

Monty scrambles to be closer too, climbing across the couch and throwing his leg over to straddle Miller’s hips. Miller groans as Monty rocks forward but pulls back just a beat later. 

“You should rest,” Miller rasps.

Monty’s smiling wildly and Miller can’t fight off his own smile either and then they’re just looking at each other, closer than they’ve ever been before. 

Miller opens his mouth to say it again but Monty leans in, kissing him again. “I should rest,” Monty echoes. “I know.” But they’re still so close and Miller can’t help himself, he’s wanted this for so _long_ , and he dips in to kiss Monty again. Monty’s hand frames Miller’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his stubble, and Miller considers quitting the guard, too, so he can spend the rest of his days doing this. 

Which reminds him. “You really quit?” he breathes between them.

“Yes,” Monty insists with a nod. “Yes. Your dad was disappointed but I mean, I just had a bomb thrown at me, so–” Miller kisses him again, deliriously happy and still not entirely convinced that this is happening. 

“So if I go to his office,” Miller presses on, “I’m not going to find your name on a scheduling sheet?”

“You will not,” Monty confirms. 

Miller wraps his arms tightly around Monty, urging him to wrap his legs around Miller’s hips, and rolls them on the couch. “Good,” he breathes. 

They can talk about the guard more tomorrow. For now, they have other things to do.


	51. interruptions

“Monty!” He hears Raven calling for him from a distance and pauses midstep, closing his eyes tightly and letting out perhaps the longest breath he’s ever had. He could easily outrun her, what with her hip still wrecked, but he’s not a _monster_. So instead he waits a beat, turns on his heel, and forces a smile before striding in her direction. “Hey,” Raven says with a smile.

“Hey,” Monty greets her. “What’s up?”

“You busy?” she asks. Monty opens his mouth to say, _yes maybe sort of a little bit but not the kind of busy I want you to ask me about_ , when Raven starts talking again. “The circuit board for the rooms in A-Quad fried and I can’t figure out what’s wrong. Could you look at it for me?” 

Monty arches an eyebrow. “Raven Reyes can’t figure out what’s wrong?” he asks. “That’s shocking. Ha-get it. Shocking?”

Raven rolls her eyes. “It’s taking a lot to admit it. Truth is I’ve been staring at it for hours–and you’ve always been better at wires than me. Don’t make me say please.” 

Monty checks his watch and realizes that he’s not _late_  yet. He supposes that he could check the circuit board. It shouldn’t take _that_  long. 

But he is busy. Or at least, about to be. He was on his way to the dropship when Raven stopped him–to meet up with Miller. Which is, like. A secret. Secret meeting at the dropship that Monty is super Not Worried about but also kind of nervous. 

They’d been walking back from the fire a few nights ago, Monty about to turn down the hall toward his quarters, when Miller wrapped his fingers around Monty’s wrist and tugged him close, kissing him quickly. It was a moment. Like, a big, explosive, _wow that was a great kiss_ kind of moment. 

He wasn’t used to hearing Miller talk about feelings, but in the empty hallways Miller quietly told him, “Listen, I like you. And it scares the shit out of me after everything that’s happened. But I do.” 

And Monty had gripped his shirt and nodded, completely overwhelmed, because, “I like you too.” And there was more kissing, and wow, wow.

The problem was the fact that the rest of the delinquents were nosy as hell, and Monty didn’t want to ruin his newly re-established friendship with Harper, and Miller felt like maybe his ex-Bryan would feel slighted if Miller got into a relationship too quickly after they broke up. The war had been a lot for all of them, but at least they were all alive, still capable of _feelings_. 

So they made a plan. To meet at the dropship. And talk about those feelings. 

“Sure,” Monty finally answers Raven. Because he’s not late yet. Not yet. “I can take a look.” 

* * *

Monty’s just finished rewiring the circuit board (it’s okay that Raven didn’t see what was wrong because it took Monty much longer than anticipated to figure it out himself). He says his goodbyes and starts out for the dropship. Again. 

“Hey–Monty!” 

Oh, God.

He turns to find Clarke striding for him, and nope, he certainly can’t outrun Clarke. So he presses another smile to his face and greets his friend. 

“How are you?” Monty asks, wondering how quickly he can fake a conversation with Clarke before she realizes he’s trying to get away. 

“I’m alright,” she says. Clarke lets out a long breath before glancing out over camp. “Bellamy and Octavia are having another one of their talks,” she tells him. They’ve been having a lot of _talks_  after everything that’s happened. Where they hole themselves into Bellamy’s quarters and shout about their feelings for like, hours at a time. It’s supposed to help. “This one’s longer than usual.” 

“They’re both very dramatic,” Monty reminds Clarke. “I’m sure it’s okay. Octavia wouldn’t kill her own brother.”

Clarke startles at that before narrowing her eyes. “You think she’d do that?”

“ _No Clarke_ , I just said she _wouldn’t_.” 

Clarke starts gnawing on her lip again. “I wonder if she took her sword in…” she murmurs, clearly more distraught than before.

“I doubt it,” Monty says. “But–you know, maybe that could help them.” Clarke frowns at him another time. “Like, sparring. Could help them! Pass that along.”

“Yeah…” Clarke trails off, still upset. “How about you?”

“Me?” Monty asks. “Oh–great. I’m great, everything’s great.”

She tips her head at him, and Monty knew there was no way he was going to get out of a conversation with Clarke Griffin without her picking up _something_. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

“What? Nothing. I just said I was great.”

“You’re fidgety.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Clarke insists. “You and Jasper fighting again?”

“What? No! We haven’t fought since–Clarke, I’m fine. Really.” 

She purses her lips at him, and Monty is _not_ going to break. Okay? He’s not. He’s had these weird, underlying feelings for Miller for _months_ (Mount Weather was forever ago but it was so _tender_  sometimes okay?) and no one’s figured it out, and now that he’s on the verge of greatness with that boy he is not about to spill it all. 

“Sure,” she says slowly, dragging out every syllable. “Anyway, I figured I need something to pass my time.” Oh, crap. Crap crap crap. “Can you look over the map for the new gardens with me? I didn’t grow up in Agro and honestly, I don’t trust too many other people’s calls on this.”

“Jasper?” Monty suggests.

“What’s wrong with you?” she wonders. “Somewhere to be?” 

“No,” Monty lies. It physically pains him. He checks his watch. He’s not late yet. “Let’s go look,” he says brightly, looping his arm through Clarke’s and starting off in the direction of the planning room. 

* * *

“Monty!”

Oh, for crying out loud!

He spins, finding Jasper swaying on his feet with a drunken smile on his face. He’s actually going to be late, this is the worst. Monty’s not really late to things. And with Miller? Everyone knows that he’s really soft on the inside, and Monty being late might make him panic. And then–what? No dating? Nope, that’s not going to happen. Monty has to make it to the dropship. 

“Jasper,” Monty greets his friend. His time with Clarke took longer than usual because _just because he grew up on Agro does not mean he wants anything to do with plants that can’t get him high_. “Listen, I’m–”

“Running late?” Jasper asks with a dopey grin. 

Monty opens and closes his mouth. “What?”

“C’mon. You’re going to meet Miller, right?” 

Monty feels like he’s been punched in the chest. “ _What_?”

“I saw you two in the hallway a few days ago,” Jasper says, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone. I know what it’s like with people prying in and not minding their own business.” Monty’s practically gaping. “Hey, I’m happy for you,” he says, dropping his hand on Monty’s shoulder. 

“Last time you said that,” Monty says, rearing back, “you were chipped and tried to kill me.” 

Jasper scoffs, but laughs. “I’m _happy_ for you,” Jasper says again, and Monty feels himself smiling. He finds himself overly happy that Jasper’s made it through all of this still alive. It was rough for a while, but Jasper will always be his best friend. “Miller’s a good dude. Hates when people are late, but–”

“I have to go,” Monty cuts him off, and Jasper laughs again. “Thanks for not saying anything.”

Jasper makes sure Monty makes it to the gate without being interrupted. 

* * *

Miller’s sitting on the ramp of the dropship when Monty finally arrives. He practically sprinted through the forest to get here and he may or may not be sweating. The look Miller gives him when he sees him is tender and warm and Monty wants to melt into the ground. 

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to come,” Miller says, pushing himself to stand.

Monty lets out a long breath. “People kept needing things from me,” he says. 

Miller strides toward Monty with confident, and Monty still wants to melt into the ground. “You’re unceasingly talented,” Miller says. “No shit people needed you.” Monty tries to huff and scoff in frustration but Miller smiles, and wow it’s a smile. “It’s okay,” he says a touch softer. “I’m just glad you made it.” 

“Me too,” Monty admits.

Miller dips in to kiss him and Monty doesn’t want to melt anymore because he’s already melting, his heart dropping into his stomach as Miller cradles Monty’s cheek in his hand. His lips are warm and his touch is warm and how is Nathan Miller this damn warm? 

“So,” Miller pulls back, but not far enough that Monty can’t feel his breath against his lips. “I grabbed a bottle of wine from Bellamy’s quarters–something he got in some trade, or something.”

“So you _stole_  a bottle of wine from Bellamy, is what I’m hearing.”

Miller kisses him again. “Details.” Monty laughs, and Miller’s fingers snag on the hem of Monty’s shirt so he can pull him back toward the dropship. “Want a glass?” he asks. 

Monty nods, following him up the ramp and into the dropship, and pauses in the doorway. He’s managed to snag a few pillows too, giving them a place to sit and lounge, and also some candles which have been scattered and lit to give the place a nice glow. 

“Remind me to correct anyone who ever says that Nathan Miller doesn’t have a heart again, okay?” Monty asks.

Miller rolls his eyes fondly and lowers himself to one of the pillows. Monty takes the one across from him, and watches as Miller pours them both glasses of dark red wine. He passes one to Monty and they toast before taking a sip, surprised at the sweetness of the drink. 

“So,” Miller starts. “Feelings, huh?” 

Monty laughs into his glass. “I was about to say that they’re the absolute worst, but.” He gestures to the dropship, wishing he was better at expressing the tangle of butterflies in his chest. 

“Yeah,” Miller agrees. This is going to be an excellent night. “But.” 


	52. team double date

“Team Double Date, do you read?”

Miller snatched the walkie from the shelf it was seated on and buzzed in at once. “For the last time, you’ve got to stop fucking calling us that Reyes,” he grumbled. 

“Oh good,” Raven answered, “you’re awake.” 

Monty was the only other person in the rover with him at the time, and he was rubbing his eyes to wake himself up. Bellamy and Clarke were out scoping out the area and they liked to leave at dawn to do that, but no one wanted to leave the rover alone os Miller and Monty were hanging back.

They’d been assigned to this mission a week ago and Raven had been calling them _Team Double Date_  since they left. The problem was that none of them were dating. And it made things increasingly awkward with every day. 

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Raven tended to give him hell when he was sharp with her, so he found it best to not. 

“Our weather radars show that a pretty brutal storm is coming up,” she said. “Using your location we determined it’s about five hours until it hits you.”

Monty reached out, carefully pulling the walkie from Miller’s grasp without actually touching him. Team Double Date made things _weird_. “What kind of storm?” Monty asked. His voice was thick, still half asleep, and it made Miller’s chest do something funny. 

“Freezing rain,” Raven answered. “Which means sharing lots of body heat.” Miller swallowed a groan. He could practically see Raven grinning. “Might make your trip a little longer,” she said, “depending on how long it takes everything to melt.”

“I hate Ice Nation territory,” Miller muttered, and Monty smiled softly in agreement. 

“Thanks for letting us know, Raven,” Monty said into the walkie. “We’ll keep you updated on conditions.”

“No problem, Team Double Date. Over and out.” 

The silence in the rover between them was awkward for a moment before Monty passed him the walkie back. They’d gotten used to Raven calling them that, so no one felt the need to comment on it anymore, but Miller knew by the way Monty shifted with his eyes somewhere else that he was thinking about it again. Miller was thinking about it too.

Miller leaned back from where he was sitting and looked out a window, finding the sky dark and gray. “We should find Bellamy and Clarke,” Miller said. “Start hunkering down.” 

Monty nodded, pushing himself from the bench he was sitting on to the front of the rover. “No problem,” he said, flipping a few switches before clicking a button. “This’ll cause Bellamy’s watch to buzz,” he told Miller, turning back. “It’s like a call signal. He’ll know to come back.” 

“Smart.” 

Monty beamed, and again Miller’s chest felt tight. Raven was definitely onto something when she called them Team Double Date. Which was annoying. But it was true. Miller liked Monty. And he wasn’t blind, he knew Clarke and Bellamy were on the edge of something with one another. 

He just wasn’t sure any of them were ready for it.

* * *

Bellamy and Clarke made their way slowly back to the rover. Monty had explained the different calls of Bellamy’s watch a while back, and the slow humming just meant to return. If it was frantic buzzing that made Bellamy’s wrist warm then it was an emergency, but chances were Raven had just called in for something.

Clarke shivered beside him, casting a look up at the sky. “Looks like a storm’s coming,” she said.

“Might be why we’re heading back,” Bellamy said, and Clarke nodded.

The four of them were up in Azgeda territory because Roan had given Arkadia permission to start spreading up north and find a place to settle. They wanted to head out right away, which meant suffering the cruel winter, but Bellamy figured they would have to get used to it if people would start living up here anyway. 

“Have you thought about it?” Clarke asked as they made their trek. The wind was unforgiving, howling through the trees. Bellamy wasn’t sure what she was talking about. “Moving to the new settlement,” she clarified. 

“A bit,” he admitted. Arkadia had too much history (and not the kind he liked) for him to feel like anything but a burden there. He liked the idea of starting fresh. He knew Miller wanted to go to the new settlement, and having his best friend there would be good. But things were still rough with Octavia, and Bellamy was sure she was staying behind. “Still unsure. What about you?”

“I need to get away from my mom,” Clarke said. Bellamy looked to her, surprised to find a mischievous smile on Clarke’s face. “She’s suffocating me,” Clarke finally went on. “I love her to death, but come on.”

Bellamy laughed. “She’s just worried.”

“I know. But, yeah. I think I’ll move up.”

“You just want to be in charge again,” Bellamy teased. Clarke’s leadership experience would be good for the new settlement, they both knew that. 

Clarke’s smile grew. “Well if you come,” she said, “then we can be in charge together.” 

Even in the freezing cold, Bellamy’s entire body flushed with warmth. 

* * *

Despite knowing that it was coming, when the freezing rain finally hit Monty found himself wincing. It was going to get _cold_. And while he sort of knew that Raven was teasing when she mentioned sharing body heat, she also wasn’t. 

The four of them huddled together on the floor in the back, stretching out all of their blankets to cover all four of them at once (though some only covered two of them because they were smaller) and waited. 

“Give me the walkie,” Monty said, reaching out toward where it was. Bellamy was closest and could reach it without leaving their cocoon so he grabbed it for Monty. “I forgot I told Raven I’d let her know when it hit us,” he said. “Raven?” 

“Team Double Date?” she asked, her response immediate. “Is that you?” 

“Actually it’s me Monty Green, longtime friend. You know who I am, right?” 

“Yes,” Raven answered, and Monty could hear her smile. “You’re one quarter of Team Double Date. Are all four of you secured?”

“In the rover,” Monty answered, hoping the pink of his cheeks was written off as the warmth from the blankets rather than blushing. “Safe and sound. It started raining about ten minutes ago.”

“You sat for ten minutes without radioing me?” she asked. “Interesting. What were you doing instead?”

Miller reached over, pulling the walkie from Monty’s hand. “Reyes,” Miller said. “You are annoying.”

“Aw, I miss you too Miller.” 

Clarke laughed from across from him and Miller passed the walkie to her. “We’re safe,” Clarke said to her friend. “How long until the storm passes, you think?”

“Should be gone in the morning,” Raven answered. “Don’t be afraid to cuddle in the meantime.” 

Bellamy took the walkie this time. “You know,” he said to Raven, “I’ve been meaning to cuddle with Miller for some time now. That is an excellent idea.” All four of them in the rover laughed, happy to hear Raven’s laugh on the other end of the walkie too. “We’ll talk to you soon, Raven.”

“Over and out, Team Double Date.”

Monty sighed, sinking backwards onto his pillows, while Clarke rolled her eyes. “We could play a game?” Monty suggested. 

“I’m down,” Clarke said. “What kind of game?” 

“I only know drinking games,” Miller muttered.

Monty nudged him under the blanket, and Miller shrugged. “We can play a drinking game without the drinks,” Monty suggested. “Because they raided the rover before we left to make sure we weren’t hiding anything.”

Miller grumbled, “Pathetic.”

Monty laughed, and Miller looked less annoyed, and Monty’s heart sunk into his stomach. “Never Have I Ever?” 

* * *

Clarke knew a lot of drinking games, but they were definitely more fun drunk. Still, it was funny sitting around with her friends and laughing at the things they had and hadn’t done. 

“Okay,” Monty said, thinking. The freezing rain continued to pound on the rover but inside, it was warm. “Never have I ever been to Polis.”

“Low blow,” Miller said, putting down a finger, considering he had done it. So had Clarke and Bellamy. “You know we’ve all been before.”

“Man, I hate Polis,” Bellamy muttered, and Miller laughed in agreement. Clarke watched as Monty nudged Miller under the blankets, as he’d been doing all night, and smiled. 

She understood why Raven called them Team Double Date. Well, she understood in terms of Monty and Miller. They’d been dancing around each other since they both broke up with their exes, unsure and nervous but on the way to something sure. She could see it from a mile away. She was less unsure about herself and Bellamy and what Raven was talking about then, considering Clarke had sworn off any sort of relationship for a very long time.

But still, Bellamy made her happy, and that complicated things. 

“Never have I ever,” Clarke said, picking up in the silence, “worked for the guard.” 

“These are low,” Miller said, dropping down another finger. “Bellamy, your turn.”

“Never have I ever… never have I ever fallen asleep reading.”

“What!”

“Oh, come on,” Miller muttered. “You totally have!”

“Worried I’ll miss something,” Bellamy said with a smile that made everything inside of Clarke feel on fire. “I’d rather bookmark it and get the full affect.” 

“Nerd,” Clarke murmured. Bellamy’s smile grew. She loved it when he smiled.

* * *

After a few rounds of Never Have I Ever, Miller found himself falling asleep. Bellamy pulled out the book he’d packed and a little light so he could read without the rover lights disturbing everyone, and Clarke turned to read over his shoulder. 

They were laying so Miller and Monty’s feet were at Clarke and Bellamy’s feet, both of their heads far away form the others.

Miller sunk back and nuzzled into the blankets with a shiver. He’d been warm earlier but as the night went on it got colder and colder. “Nate?” Monty said gently. Miller turned so he could face him in the dark. Clarke and Bellamy were whispering to each other, so Monty kept his voice quiet. 

“Can’t sleep?” Miller asked.

Monty sighed. “I know Azgeda are our allies now,” he murmured. “But being in their territory…” he trailed off. Miller reached out on instinct and grabbed Monty’s hand beneath the blanket, twisting until their lingers were laced. Miller squeezed once, and the tension seemed to leak out of Monty easily with a sigh. “Thanks,” he whispered. 

Miller rubbed his thumb over Monty’s knuckle. “I take it you won’t be moving to the new settlement then?” he asked. 

Monty wiggled a little closer and Miller battled against his heart to keep it beating normally. “Still undecided,” Monty told him. “You?”

“I want to go.” Monty eased his eyes open and Miller caught his gaze. “It’d be better with you there,” Miller admitted. 

He watched Monty swallow. “Yeah?” 

Miller squeezed his hand another time. “Yeah.” 

The smile that filled Monty’s face was worth it. “Night, Nate,” Monty whispered. 

* * *

Bellamy woke in the middle of the night to the sound of silence, meaning the rain stopped. Clarke was sleeping beside him–and by beside him it was more like on top of him, her arm stretched out over his waist as she nuzzled into his side. 

Bellamy let out a long breath. He knew that Clarke was still healing. She’d be healing for the rest of her life, what with all the loss in her life. But he _ached_  for this with Clarke. She was warm and together they had grown and Bellamy couldn’t imagine a life without her. 

He knew his future would either be alone, or with Clarke by his side. There would never be anyone else like her, who had been by his side through his darkest moments and still came out respecting and admiring him all the same. He needed her like she needed him. There was no middle ground. 

Bellamy reached down with his hand and twisted his fingers through Clarke’s golden hair, knowing that he couldn’t push her. If this was the most that he could have, he’d take it.

* * *

When Monty woke in the morning, he and Miller had tangled their legs together beneath the blankets. They had moved so close that their foreheads were leaning against one another, their noses almost brushing. Their hands were still laced together. 

Monty pushed up, bumping his nose into Miller’s and watching his long eyelashes flutter open. Miller’s mouth curved into a sleepy, early morning smile that made Monty feel brave. 

“Hi,” Miller whispered.

Monty pushed forward more, tilting his chin up, and kissing Miller softly. As he pulled back Miller followed, chasing his lips, fumbling to get one of his hands free so he could reach up and cup Monty’s cheek and keep him close. 

After one long, warm, brilliant perfect moment they finally broke apart. Miller’s smile was infinite and it was a smile that Monty wanted to savor for the rest of his life. 

“Hi,” Monty whispered back. Miller laughed, and Monty ducked his head and cuddled closer. “Storm’s over,” Monty told him.

Miller laughed again and nodded. “I’m in no rush to brave the cold,” he told told Monty. 

Monty hummed. “Me neither.”

* * *

When Clarke woke it was because Monty and Miller on the other side of the rover kept laughing about something. She blinked a few times, everything very bright from the ice outside, before finding Miller and Monty wrapped around one another with smiles warm enough to keep the winter winds at bay on their faces. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke whispered, poking him, realizing suddenly how close they were. Still, it was cold, and she didn’t pull away. “Bellamy,” she tried again.

“Hmm.”

“I think Monty and Miller are together now,” she said.

Bellamy laughed. “Good. Miller’s practically in love with the kid.” Clarke propped herself up slightly, trying not to draw Monty and Miller’s attention away from one another, and Bellamy opened one of his eyes to look at her. “That bother you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. It’s… nice.” Bellamy nodded in agreement, easing his other eye open as well. And he just looked at her. Bellamy looked at her with his soft eyes and easy smile on her face, and Clarke knew in that exact moment that Bellamy loved her. “I want that,” she told him suddenly. “To feel like that. One day.”

Bellamy’s smile softened into something sad. “One day,” he echoed. 

“But with you,” she carried on. Because she loved Bellamy, too. She knew she did. But fear was sometimes stronger, and she wanted everything to settle down before they could be that. 

Bellamy blinked a few times. “Yeah?”

“One day,” she said again. “It won’t… it won’t be forever.” 

Bellamy reached for her hand, squeezing. “Okay,” he whispered. His smile was back, more brilliant than ever. “I’ll wait.”

“I know.” 

He grabbed lifted her hand to kiss her fingertips, and Clarke realized that it might be sooner than she thought.

* * *

“Team Double Date?” Raven’s voice crackled through the walkie. “Did you survive the night?”

Monty made it to the walkie first. “This is Team Double Date,” he answered with a smile, “checking in.”

There was a long pause. “ _Really?”_ Raven asked. Miller was by Monty’s side and he squeezed himself closer. “Yes!” 

Miller gently pulled the walkie from Monty’s hand. “Do you need something, Reyes?” 

“Just making sure you’re alive,” she said with a laugh in her voice. “Glad you made it!”

Bellamy smiled softly, easing back against the wall with Clarke tucked into his side wearing a smile of her own. 

“Bye Raven,” Monty said into the walkie, using Miller’s hand to hold the button down.

“Later, Team Double Date.” 

“Over and out,” Monty responded. 


	53. don't walk away

“Monty.” Miller pushed his way through the halls of Arkadia, weaving past the people in his path. “Monty!” He didn’t like raising his voice in public but Monty was still moving, faster and faster, trying to get away. “ _Monty_!” Miller shouted, his voice echoing off the walls, causing people to still. Eventually people moved out of his way, and Monty turned, his eyes dark.

“What?” he shouted back. 

Miller forced a deep breath. “Don’t you dare walk away,” he said, striding in Monty’s direction.

Monty’s arms flew outwards, opening wide. “Too late,” he said. Then he spun on his heel and began marching away again, faster and faster until Miller had to pick up into a jog to chase him.

A few steps after Monty made it outside Miller shouted again. “Monty!” 

Monty wheeled around again. “I can’t!” he shouted back. Miller was still charging toward him and stopped a few steps away from him. “I can’t fight with you Nate,” Monty rasped, lifting his hands to cover his face, to rub at his eyes. “I just–I need a minute. Okay?”

There was desperation in his voice, weakness that made Miller pause. “I don’t like fighting with you either,” Miller said gently, stepping toward him again. “And we _weren’t_ but–just, talk to me,” he insisted. “Don’t walk away. Please.”

Monty dropped his hands and looked up at him. “I’ve never had someone like you before,” Monty said softly. Miller took another step and grabbed Monty’s hands. “It’s–it’s scary, okay?”

“You think it’s not scary for me?” Miller asked. “I bring up the idea of–of marriage and you turn it around into this huge…” 

That’s what they’d been doing when they fought, just talking about the future. About making things between them permanent and official. But Monty had seized up, had insisted that somehow Miller wasn’t thinking about Monty, that things were going too fast. Miller wasn’t sure how it happened but Monty ended up marching out. 

“I’m sorry,” Monty rasped. “I–this is a lot. This is a lot, I’m sorry.” 

Miller reached up with one hand, cupping Monty’s cheek. “I love you,” Miller said softly. “If you–if that’s now how you feel anymore, then _talk_  to me. Don’t just–”

“I know, I know,” Monty cut him off. “Of course I love you.”

“Of course?” Miller echoed weakly. “You just–”

“I love you,” Monty insisted. There was sureness in his voice, on his face. “I’m just afraid. That if–no, that _when_  we take things forward, that _when_  we make things more–more than they are–I’m afraid I’ll lose you.”

Monty lifted his hand to cover Miller’s. “We’re safe now,” Miller told him. “We’ve been safe for years. Moving forward won’t change that.” Monty nodded, but something passed over him again and back into fear he sank. Miller glanced over his shoulder, suddenly aware of everyone staring at them. “Let’s go back to our room,” Miller pleaded. “So we can talk. Please.” 

Monty nodded, and Miller sighed in relief as he pulled Monty close. 

He wrapped his arms tightly around him and Monty sighed too, holding him tightly. “I want everything with you,” Monty murmured. “I do, Nate. I swear.” 

Miller cupped the back of Monty’s head and swallowed back something that ached. “Let’s go,” Miller said gently. 

They headed back to their quarters together, hands entwined. 


	54. suntanning

“It’s trivial and a waste of time.”

“Wrong. It makes me feel good and makes me look better.”

“You’re allowing yourself to get cancer, Clarke.”

“Wrong. That’s what sunscreen is for.”

Bellamy huffs in frustration from where he’s standing. Clarke’s stretched out on the beach on an old blanket, soaking up the rays of the sun. Suntanning is something that people used to do _Before_. Before the radiation, before the bombs, before the end of the world. In space, the equivalent of suntanning was sitting in front of a sunlamp so you could soak up vitamin D. 

But Luna and her people have been suntanning for years and Luna swears by it. Her Grounder beliefs tend to be more related to mythology and burning up the bad spirits that linger after a long day, instead of focusing on science, but Clarke’s taken to it.

Bellamy’s worried that she’ll burn. He crosses his arms tightly but Clarke’s eyes are closed and she doesn’t notice. “Don’t come crying to me,” he says, “when your skin is red.”

“Alright.”

He wrinkles his nose in frustration and storms off the beach, leaving her alone to tan. 

Miller shows up half an hour later. He throws his own blanket out across the sand and stretches out beside Clarke without words. “Did some research,” Miller says as he positions himself in the best spot possible. “Reyes got us hooked up to the internet of the old time, right? So I searched for benefits of suntanning.”

“To prove to Bellamy that he’s being a baby?” Clarke asks, opening one of her eyes to look at him.

Miller laughs. “Mostly to prove to Monty that he’s being a baby, but proving Bellamy wrong is an added benefit.”

“We’re great at relationships,” Clarke says, closing her eyes again. 

“Anyway,” Miller carries on. “Not only does it enhance mood and provide us with vitamin D, but it’s actually just generally good for your health?” Clarke hums as though she already knew that and Miller sinks into silence, listening to the sound of the waves lapping at the shore. 

The silence is more preferable. 

It’s peaceful. Both Miller and Clarke think that after all the shit they’ve been through, they deserve a few afternoons stretched out under the sun listening to the ocean. They deserve this. 

Monty storms up to the beach about an hour later, his arms crossed over his chest and his face riddled with worry. “With the amount of radiation still in the air,” he starts, but Miller shushes him. “ _Nate_ ,” Monty whines.

“Babe,” Miller murmurs. “I love you. But shut up.”

Monty huffs. “What if you get sick? And die? Because you wanted to stretch out in the sun for hours at a time?”

Miller squints up at his boyfriend with a frown. “Circle of life?”

“I want it on the record that I don’t approve!” Monty nearly shouts. 

“Bellamy’s probably looking for people to form his Anti-Tanning club,” Clarke says, her eyes still closed. “If you wanted to be grumpy together.”

Monty whines before marching off the beach, leaving the two of them back to their well deserved silence. 

* * *

When Miller returns to his tent that night he finds Monty sitting on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks upset, which to be fair Miller definitely expected, so Miller takes the seat beside him. 

“I know you did research or whatever,” Monty murmurs, his voice small, “but we live in a new world now. And it worries me that something could happen to you.”

Miller reaches out, grabs Monty’s hand, and pulls it so he’s cupping Miller’s cheek. Monty’s fingers wiggle, stretching out across his skin, and Miller leans more into his touch. Miller’s skin is warm from the sun, but warmer with Monty’s hand. 

“You can’t live every moment afraid of what’s next,” Miller says. 

“Yes I can.”

Miller smiles. “I know we’ve lost people,” he says. “But we have a cure for radiation sickness now. And we’re smarter than we were before. And tanning is _relaxing.”_

“If you’re only doing it because you want something relaxing,” Monty says, “then clearly we’re not spending enough time in bed.”

Miller laughs. He’ll cut down on his time in the sun if it’ll make Monty happy.

* * *

Clarke might be a little more red than she anticipated. 

When she returns to her and Bellamy’s tent, she’s immediately annoyed at the smirk on Bellamy’s face that says _I told you so_.

“Don’t say it,” she mutters.

Bellamy doesn’t. Instead, he opens his arms to her and Clarke carefully walks toward him. With careful hands he pulls her down for a soft kiss before gesturing to the bed.

“Shirt off. Lie down.”

Clarke struggles a bit to get her shirt over her head but soon she’s lying down on their mat. She shivers at the sound of a bottle shaking, and gasps at the cold liquid that Bellamy squeezes onto her skin.

“Luna recommended some healing concoctions,” Bellamy says softly. The relief is nearly instantaneous. His large hands move across her back, rubbing in the cream, and Clarke swallows her groans of appreciation. “No more tanning,” he says.

“Just less tanning,” Clarke murmurs.

Bellamy laughs, his hands gently kneading into her shoulders. 

* * *

Clarke and Miller are back on the beach a week later. Miller’s stretched out under the sun slathered in a new ultra sunscreen that Monty’s made and Clarke’s under her makeshift umbrella protecting her from the harsh rays. 

It’s peaceful. They deserve it. 


	55. not on the list

There’s tension in the air when Miller and the rest of them return from their trip. It doesn’t take him a very long time to figure out why. “There’s a list,” Riley says, “of people who get to live when the world ends.” 

Because of course there is. That makes sense. And of course there’s only room for 100 people on this list, because everything in life is cyclical. 100 came down to see if the world was survivable, and 100 will be left to survive.

It doesn’t take Miller a long time to find a copy of the list. And it’s not surprising that he’s not on it. Or his father. He’s not happy about it, but he understands. They’re soldiers. You don’t need soldiers at the end of the world. You need scientists. Engineers. Leaders. 

“Isn’t it funny?” Jasper asks, leaning over Miller’s shoulder as he looks at the copy he’s scanning. “Not even Monty made it.”

And–no. Nope. No. _Fuck that._

“Griffin!” It erupts out of him like a roar and he pushes away from Jasper, storming down the halls of Arkadia until he finds her tucked away in a lab with Raven. He slams the copy of the list against her chest. “Explain,” he demands. 

“It–Miller,” she tries. “It’s not–”

“Where the fuck is Monty’s name?” 

Clarke’s face falls. “I talked to him,” she says carefully. “And–”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he snaps. “Octavia’s on here? What the hell has _she_ done that’s beneficial to fucking society?” He starts going down, picking off names. “Kim Ginsburg? A fucking teachers _aid_? Not even a real teacher? Or Joe Terry? The fucking janitor?” He snarls. “Where. The fuck. Is Monty.”

Clarke seems startled that he cares so much. “It’s complicated,” she says.

“I don’t give a fuck what it is,” Miller says. “He’s the one who came up with this fucking plan at all and you have the audacity to keep his name off the people who get to live?” He steps backwards. “You disgust me.” 

“Miller,” Raven says in warning.

“Don’t even start,” he snaps. “I’m disgusted. Monty’s a fucking genius, smarter than half of the people on this list combined, and you sidelined him like the snake you are.” 

“ _Miller_ ,” Raven says again. She jerks her head and Miller turns, finding Monty in the doorway. He looks stunned, his eyes wide and his lips parted. 

Miller shakes his head and starts out of the room. “It’s bullshit,” he says again.

Monty doesn’t find him until later. He’s whittling a stick into a point when Monty lowers himself into the spot beside him by the fire. “It’s not the end of the world if I’m not on that list,” he says carefully.

“Actually,” Miller mutters, sharpening a little harder than before, “it is.” He can’t look at Monty when he says, “You out of everyone here deserves to live, Monty.” 

“Not you?” Monty asks. Miller looks up at him, struggling to hold his gaze. “You’re a good person, too.”

“Not nearly as good as you,” Miller answers. He needs Monty to understand this. That maybe Miller’s a person who deserves a chance at life, but he’s not like Monty. He’s not smart and brave and kind all at once. Only some of those things, some of the time. Monty can save them. Monty can make the future brighter for generations. Monty is _important_. “But I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?” 

Monty sighs. Miller starts whittling again. “I guess not,” Monty murmurs back. 


	56. back to mount weather

Miller isn’t sure that he hears Monty right, considering his bones ache with exhaustion and his head is foggy from lack of eating anything in the past few days that they’ve locked the delinquents in their quarters. 

It’s time for rest now for at least for a few of them while others are up for watch. Monty’s beside him, in the dark, and his words carry through the room clearly.

“It could’ve been us,” he said. For a moment, Miller things that he’s talking about any of the numerous kids who are dead now. But when Monty adds, “But we’re just going to die, instead,” Miller realizes he’s talking about something else. 

“Monty?” 

Monty must be tired too because he turns, his head resting on Miller’s shoulder. “And if you didn’t have your guy,” he says, his voice even softer, sadder. 

Miller thinks of all the time their hands have brushed these past few days, the way their eyes have met from across the room as a new disaster struck or another kid was taken. Miller swallows, his hand twitching now so his fingers bump Monty’s. 

“You and me?” Miller asks, just to confirm. But there’s silence on Monty’s end, because that’s a confession that hurts them both and Miller knows that. He’s quiet a moment before asking, “You really think we’re going to die?” 

Monty’s always been hopeful, optimistic, so him having said that must really mean how scared he is. 

Again, there’s silence. 

“We could’ve gone to that, uh,” Miller clears his throat. “That glowing forest, back by the dropship. Remember?” Monty’s fingers twitch too, bumping into Miller’s. “Had some of your moonshine.” 

Miller lingers in the thought for a moment. The two of them, him and Monty, in the woods with nothing but a bottle and each other. He’s not prepared for the way it makes his chest burn. 

Miller grabs Monty’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “We’ll get there,” Miller decides. 

“Yeah?” Monty whispers back.

 _Maybe_ , Miller thinks. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. But a large part of him wants that. A moment with Monty that’s bigger than either of them.

“Yeah,” Miller answers. 


	57. never got the chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is ANGSTY AND SAD BLAME MEL

He’s not dead. That’s what Nathan keeps telling himself, looking at Monty’s small, pale body in the hospital bed in front of him. _He’s not dead_.

But that’s always followed by a quiet, painful whisper of: _not yet_. 

Nathan startles when someone drops their hand on his shoulder but he’s not surprised to find Bellamy behind him. He squeezes Nathan’s shoulder and lets out a soft sigh, and the two of them wait in silence. Nathan’s not sure what he’s waiting for. Everyone’s pretty sure that Monty’s not going to wake up.

They thought the threat of radiation was gone. It wasn’t. 

“He needed more time,” Nathan finally rasps. Bellamy sighs again and it makes Nathan ache even more than he already does. “Out of everyone, _he_ deserved more time.”

“It’s more than that,” Bellamy says gently. There’s no accusation there, but he’s right. It’s more than the fact that Monty didn’t get the time he deserves. That’s not why Nathan’s in here every day until Monty slips away. 

Nathan’s surprised to feel his eyes burning. “We were so _close_ ,” he whispers. He and Monty were so fucking close to something bright and unstoppable, so close to making their _maybe_ a _definitely_. And then he got sick and it all slipped away before Nathan even got to tell him how he felt. 

“Clarke says,” Bellamy starts carefully, his voice thick, “that maybe he can still hear us.” 

Nathan knows what Bellamy’s saying. _Tell him now_. Part of him doesn’t want Bellamy around for this at all, but if Bellamy wasn’t here then Nathan knows that he’d collapse. 

“He reminded me what it was like to not worry about things,” Nathan says. His throat feels like he’s swallowed gravel. “Everything went to shit and he was always–he was always still so fucking _hopeful.”_ Nathan shakes his head. “He made me want to…” he trails off, an empty laugh in his voice. “He made me want to do things again. See the fucking ocean. Climb a fucking tree.” His voice cracks when he says, “Live.” 

Bellamy squeezes his shoulder. “Miller…” 

“I could’ve loved him,” Nathan whispers. “If we’d only had the time.” 

Monty doesn’t move. There’s no sign that he’s listening. There’s no sign that he’s heard. He just inhales and exhales again and again, the room incredibly quiet. 

He doesn’t wake up.


	58. sharing space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the last chapter

“I’m not used to sharing a bed with someone,” Monty murmurs into Nate’s collarbone. He’s been living alone for at least a few months now, and the thought of waking up every morning spooning the person he loves so much is just crazy to him. 

Nate hums. “Was it a good experience or a bad one?” he asks. His eyes are still closed but he’s smiling, that perfect Nathan Miller smile that makes Monty feel blessed every time he gets to see it. 

“You hogged the blankets,” Monty answers, nipping at Nate’s neck. “And snored,” he carries on warmly, encouraged on by Nate’s growing smile. “And I loved every second of it.”

“You’re a dork,” Nate tells him fondly. 

Monty nuzzles closer, sucking and biting on Nate’s neck, reveling in the small airy breaths that escape Nate as he Monty does so. This was their first night together, curled up side by side without any space between them. Monty had his back flush against Nate’s chest, Nate’s arm wrapped tightly around his waist, his warm breath fanning Monty’s shoulder all through the night. 

They’ve shifted a bit now, though their legs are still tangled together under the sheets. “You love me,” Monty says.

“Insanely,” Nate agrees. 

It doesn’t matter how many times he hears it, Monty’s heart blossoms in his chest. “Say it,” he encourages Nate softly. 

“Hm?”

“ _Nate_.”

He turns his head, his nose bumping Monty’s forehead at this angle. “I love you,” he whispers. Monty closes his eyes as he listens, three little words that mean so much. “I am so vastly in love with you, Monty Green.”

“You’re such a softie in the mornings,” Monty whispers, sounding small and overwhelmed. 

Nate hums again, still smiling, and moves to press a kiss to Monty’s forehead, not even bothering to deny it.


	59. how miller got arrested

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actually working on a longer piece in this universe so xoxo enjoy

“Here.” Bellamy leaned over in his seat, stretching just far enough to the one beside him to pass Miller the bottle of moonshine that they’d been passing around. He accepted it with a nod of his head before taking a swig and passing it to Monty who was seated between Miller’s legs. Monty knocked it back with a few chugs and Bellamy laughed. “Slow down, kid.”

Monty rolled his eyes but lowered the bottle anyway. “It’s been a long day,” Monty said, offering the bottle back to Miller who turned it away without words. Instead he wrapped his arms tighter around Monty’s waist. 

Clarke exited the cabin then and took the bottle from Monty with a mock-frown. “Your best friend getting married is a _good_ thing, Monty,” Clarke reminded him. She settled onto the seat beside Bellamy and set the moonshine aside. “Gets him out of your hair.”

“Our hair,” Miller reminded Monty softly.

Monty smiled. “I’m happy he’s happy,” he told the three of them. “Really. Jasper’s happiness is like, vital to my own. But God, it was a long day.”

The ceremony was beautiful. It was a small wedding but both Grounders and Skaikru alike were there and Jasper really, truly looked happy. 

“Hard to believe he used to be that kid wearing goggles,” Bellamy murmured. Clarke slid her arm around Bellamy’s side and nuzzled close. “Never thought he’d even smile again after Mount Weather.” 

“Nah, I knew he’d get back there,” Monty said. He leaned back against Miller’s chest and loving the soft sigh his boyfriend gave. “Jasper just needed to find his, er, metaphorical goggles again.”

Miller snorted. “Right.”

“God, we used to be just kids,” Clarke said, shaking her head as Bellamy toyed with the ends of her hair. “I mean,” she poked Bellamy’s side, “you’ve always been a grumpy old man, but–”

“Still calling us kids, too,” Miller agreed with a smirk. 

“It’s not like we’ve stopped numerous wars and survived the end of the world a few times or anything,” Monty added with a grin. 

“Still kids,” Bellamy murmured, but he was smiling. “Just weird that we ended up here from where we started.”

“Getting high,” Monty agreed with a nod.

“Knowing things I shouldn’t,” Clarke added.

“Stealing,” Miller murmured. Monty looked up at him then, his eyes a little wider than usual. “What?” he asked.

“You know,” Monty said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that story.” 

Miller frowned. “What story?”

“How you got arrested,” Monty said. 

Miller looked across the gap to Bellamy and Clarke, the both of them watching him too. “It’s not a _story_ ,” he said. “Kane caught me in his office. The rest is history.”

“But what were you _taking_ ,” Bellamy pushed. Miller frowned at him and Bellamy laughed in response. “Monty’s right! We’ve never heard the story.” He gestured to Clarke. “We know about the Ark running out of air.” Then to Monty, “And Monty and Jasper with their _herbs_.”

Monty laughed. “Yeah, Nate. What were you stealing?” 

Miller was still frowning and Monty elbowed him a little. “Files,” Miller finally said. “I was trying to get some files, okay?”

Clarke barked out a laugh. “You got thrown in jail for stealing _files_?”

“What a nerd,” Monty teased.

“Oh, shut up.” Monty nuzzled closer and Miller sighed, looking to Clarke again. “It was right after you were thrown in isolation,” Miller explained. “Jaha wasn’t telling me shit,” he went on, “and you _know_ how I like to know things.”

“Mm-hm,” Clarke agreed. Miller tended to know all the gossip before anyone else. “That’s why me and Wells hung out with you. To get the facts no one else could give us.”

“Perks of being Chief Guard’s kid,” Bellamy said with a grin. 

“So–yeah,” Miller said. “I wanted to know why you were in isolation.” 

Everyone was quiet for a moment before Monty craned his neck up to look at Miller again. “You were thrown in jail,” he said slowly, “because you were stealing files, about _Clarke_?” 

Miller wished he had the moonshine again. “Yep.” 

Monty barked out a laugh, too. “Nate!”

“Hey, Clarke and I were friends,” Miller tried, but Monty was still laughing. Clarke looked on with a fond smile. “Stop laughing at me,” Miller scolded his boyfriend, but Monty wouldn’t. 

“Was that the first thing you’d attempted to steal?” Bellamy asked with a grin. “Because maybe you’re not as great a thief as we’ve all been led to believe.”

“Fuck you, Blake,” Miller said, but finally he was grinning too. “I had a drawer in my room or all the stuff I’d taken.”

“Full of files?” Monty teased.

“I hate you,” Miller murmured. “Full of whatever I found–God, all of you suck.”

“Hey, once Miller stole some art supplies for me,” Clarke offered. Being friends with Clarke was always a struggle on the Ark, but she tended to have his back when he needed it. “Real thief. I’ve reaped the benefits.” 

Miller nodded at her appreciatively. “Thank you.” 

Monty was still giggling. “Had you stolen files before?”

“Oh–Jesus, Monty, shut _up_ ,” Miller groaned. “As a matter of fact, I _had_. But these were in Kane’s office, which was not the best place to be, and–”

“I’m just _kidding_ , Nate,” Monty said with a smile. Miller readjusted his arms around Monty’s waist and dropped his chin to Monty’s shoulder. “Just of all the things to send you to the sky box.”

“Tell me about it,” he muttered. 

“I didn’t know you and Clarke were friends on the Ark,” Bellamy said, trying to change to subject a little to give Miller some room to breathe. 

“Ark royalty runs in packs,” Clarke answered with a shrug. Bellamy arched an eyebrow and Clarke smiled. “That’s what people would say whenever the two of us and Wells entered a room.”

“A powerful trio,” Bellamy nodded. 

“Damn, we ran that place,” Miller said with a sigh, almost wistful.

“You still run this place,” Monty reminded him, squeezing Miller’s knee. Their small settlement just hours away from Arkadia had Bellamy and Clarke as their leaders, Miller just a step below in charge of security, and even Monty high up on the list in terms of technical development with Raven (who was currently in Arkadia making trades). 

Miller nuzzled into Monty’s neck. “True.” Then a touch softer, “But now I’ve got you.” 

If Bellamy or Clarke heard, neither said anything. “I think it’s bed time,” Monty said in response, his smile back and cutting straight to Miller’s core as he stood and pulled Miller with him. 

Before anyone could say anything else Monty had laced his hand with Miller’s and was tugging him off Bellamy and Clarke’s porch. 

“Got to get back before the sun sets,” Miller reminded them.

“Have a nice night,” Monty agreed, waving with his freehand. 

Once the two of them were gone, Clarke curled further into Bellamy’s side. The sounds of their settlement preparing for bed soft in the air around them. “Think that’ll be them one day?” Clarke asked softly. “Miller and Monty? Getting married?”

“Oh, definitely,” Bellamy said with a nod. 

The quiet lingered a moment longer. “What about you and me?” 

Bellamy smiled, twisting his finger around another lock of her hair. “Definitely,” he whispered. 


	60. staying in bed

The sun is up. 

In fact, the sun has been up for at least an hour now, and Monty’s getting twitchy. He has _work_ to do, okay? The world is ending. Even here on Science Island with Raven being a badass and Luna helping out and everyone doing what they can, Monty needs to be in the center of it. 

He’s a genius. He is. And they need his brain.

But he’s in bed, and Nate’s wound around him, and Nate is _a lot_ stronger than Monty. He’s holding Monty firmly, his chest pressed against Monty’s back, breathing softly. Nate’s breath is warm against Monty’s neck.

It’s amazing. It’s seriously amazing, getting to wake up with his boyfriend in these super comfy beds in this super fancy mansion. But Monty has work to do. _The sun is up_.

Maybe if he just shifts…

“No,” Nate grumbles. 

Monty huffs. “So you _are_ awake,” he says. Nate tightens his grip and Monty indulges him for a moment. “I have work to do,” Monty says softly.

“ _No_ ,” Nate says again. “I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.”

Monty huffs again, but he’s smiling. “The sun’s up, Nate,” he says. 

“Great. That means it’s like, seven in the morning. Which mean it’s too early to get out of bed.” Monty wiggles a little and Nate sighs, nuzzling into Monty’s neck. “You’re a genius,” Nate says softly.

“Oh, wow, I was just thinking that too,” Monty responds.

“You didn’t let me finish.” The silence in the room is comfortable. “You’re a genius,” he says again. “So I get it. They need your insane brain. But the world’s ending, and I just want to lay here a little longer.” He nudges Monty’s shoulder with his nose. “Okay?” 

Monty melts backwards into Nate as much as he can. “Okay.” They’re quiet for another moment before Monty turns in his grasp. “Nate,” he says. Nate’s eyes are still closed, but he hums. Monty leans in and kisses his chin. “The world’s ending,” he says. “But we’re gonna make it out okay.” 

Nate smiles. Monty isn’t ever going to get used to the sight of it. 

“I know,” Nate says. “Because you’re a well-rested genius taking advantage of these awesome beds with your handsome boyfriend.” Monty kisses his chin another time before resting against Nate’s chest. 

They fall back asleep until the sun has _really_ risen, and Monty’s grateful for the rest.


	61. for monty

“ _Nate_.” Bryan stood in the doorway, gun trained on Jasper who had a knife to Monty’s throat. “You don’t have to do it.”

Nate had a chip in his hand. His eyes flickered to Bryan, standing with the gun, then back to Monty with fear in his eyes who shook his head slightly. They needed Monty. Raven was still out of it and without Monty’s brain there was no way that they’d be able to stop ALIE without him. 

“Why do you need _me_?” Nate asked, his voice sounding rough. It wasn’t _fair_. ALIE didn’t need any more soldiers. She could manipulate their fucking bodies, okay? They didn’t need to be like Nathan. “I’m no one important.”

“We need everyone,” Jasper answered. “So either pop that piece of plastic in your mouth or I’m slitting Monty’s throat.” There were tears in Monty’s eyes, and he shook his head again. 

“You’re good on your word?” Nate asked. He couldn’t risk it, taking the chip if ALIE was going to kill Monty the second he’d swallowed it. 

“Always,” Jasper answered.

“Don’t do it,” Monty rasped. Jasper pulled back the knife and Monty cried out, a line of blood streaming from the small cut Jasper made. “Bryan’s right, Miller,” Monty said. “You don’t have to do it. _Not for me_.”

Something inside of Nate was burning. 

There were very few people Nate would even consider taking this God awful chip for. Unfortunately, Monty was one of them. 

“Yes I do,” Nate murmured. 

“ _Nate_ ,” Bryan cried out. 

Nate lifted the chip to his lips, watching Jasper lower the knife, and placed it on his tongue to swallow. 


	62. come back to me

Monty paused, leaning back. “Are you drunk?"  

Something passed over Miller’s face and his eyes seemed to clear for a moment. "We only have a few days,” he murmured. 

Monty frowned, stepping away from him. “I know. And I’m leaving. And you’re drunk." 

"Monty,” Miller tried. 

“You can’t tell me that you’ve given up,” Monty said. His voice was sharp, and Miller stood up a little straighter. “ _You_?”

“I haven’t,” Miller said. “I just–fuck.” He dragged his hands over his face. “Fuck. I haven’t given up." 

"Then stop throwing yourself a pity party because we have work to do,” Monty said. Miller’s face fell, as though he was just remembering that Monty was about to leave. That Monty might not come back. That there was the briefest chance they might not see one another again. “I’ll see you soon,” Monty said firmly. “Okay?" 

Miller hesitated. And it wasn’t because he’d given up, Monty knew he hadn’t. Miller was a fighter through it all. Still. "Monty…" 

"I need you to say it,” Monty grit. He was leaving. He needed Miller to _say it_.

Miller reached out, seizing Monty’s wrist with his hand. “I’ll see you soon,” Miller told him. He tugged Monty close, giving him the briefest of kisses, a promise of what the would have when Monty came back to him. “Be safe.”

Monty sighed as Miller dropped his wrist. It wasn’t enough. He was hopeful, truly, but it wasn’t enough. Miller tipped his head into a nod but Monty reached out for him. 

“Wait,” he rasped. As though he’d been waiting, desperate for something more as well, Monty met him in the middle.

Miller cupped his cheeks and pulled him close, kissing him as though it was really one of their final days, kissing him with a ferocity that would open oceans and bring down mountains. Monty clung to him, opening his mouth as Miller slid his tongue past Monty’s lips, groaning at the feeling of being in the arms of this beautiful boy.

Without bothering to part Miller started moving them, pushing Monty backwards until they bumped into a wall. One of his hands moved free and he propped himself up over Monty, changing the angle of the kiss. Still, still, still, it wasn’t enough. Monty wound his arms around Miller’s waist and pulled him as close as he could and when their hips met the sound that Miller made gave Monty goosebumps.

“Come back to me,” Miller rasped. It wasn’t a demand. There was no usual sureness in his voice. It was a plea. Monty reached up for him again, needing to feel Miller’s lips against his own one more time. Just in case.


	63. jealous monty

Monty knows the moment he’s been staring for too long. He knows this because Bellamy looks up from the book he’s reading, follows Monty’s gaze, and frowns. Monty busies himself by unwinding the wires wrapped around a circuit board that isn’t of any use anymore. 

“Monty,” Bellamy says. Monty opts to not respond. “ _Monty_ ,” he says, a little sharper this time, and Monty looks up at him for a moment. “What’s that about?” he asks. 

“What’s what about?” Monty asks. 

Bellamy jerks his head up and forward, gesturing where Monty was just staring. Toward Miller. And his recently-resurrected-from-the-missing boyfriend, Bryan. Sitting together. All happy and in love. 

Monty looks away, back toward his useless circuit board. “I don’t know what you mean,” Monty says. 

That’s a lie. He doesn’t just _say_ it. He mutters it. Like some sort of angry gremlin. Because that’s what he is. He’s angry. He’s not _jealous_. That’s absurd. Because–why would Monty be jealous?

An insanely bright smile, once, in the middle of a death trap of a mountain means nothing. Not even from a boy who doesn’t smile. 

He’s just angry. Because Bryan reappeared and that made Miller _dis_ appear. And Monty misses Miller. 

“Monty,” Bellamy says, and he _says_ it. With concern and everything. Maybe even a little sigh. “He missed him,” Bellamy says. 

“I can imagine.” 

“They’re just catching up,” Bellamy reminds him. 

“Miller’s missed the last three delinquent meetings,” Monty says. (Again. He doesn’t say it. This one is more of a snap.) “But sure.” 

And okay, fine. Miller doesn’t have to be at the delinquent meetings. They’re not even anything official. It’s just those who remain from the original 100 gather and they drink moonshine and they remind themselves that it’s okay to be alive and it’s okay to have done what they’ve had to so the could survive. Raven and Jasper sketch absurd but optimistic plans for Arkadia and Monty pretends like he and Jasper are friends again and it’s nice, it’s nice. 

He wishes Miller was there. They used to sit side by side at the fire, their legs pressed together, the flickering light illuminating the long curl of Miller’s eyelashes, passing back and forth a flask until the sun would rise.

God, why is he still thinking about Miller? 

“He said that you got close,” Bellamy says suddenly, his voice much softer than before. Monty’s eyes lift from what he’s working on to look at Miller again, a few dozen yards away, content with his arm slung around his boyfriend. “At Mount Weather.”

“We did,” Monty says. (This time he says it. No bark or bite, no little sigh.) Monty shakes his head, thinking back to those moments in the rover, just before they discovered Agro was still out there, when Miller clutched his arm and sang to him. Because it wasn’t just at the mountain were they close. “We were.”

There were dozens of moments that Monty was still trying to figure out. Lingering touches in the dining hall. Lingering gazes across the fire. Lingering smiles that didn’t belong on the face of a boy like Nathan Miller who was always so angry. Lingering thoughts, late at night, when Monty was trying to sleep and couldn’t shake Miller from his mind. 

He wishes Clarke was here. The second Monty realized that all of the lingering things led to a lingering crush, he wanted to talk to Clarke. Boys liking girls was fine and boys liking boys was fine, but even people in Arkadia were hesitant when boys liked boys and girls. 

Clarke likes boys and girls. Monty wishes she could help him sort out his mind. 

“You still are,” Bellamy reminds him. “Bryan showing up doesn’t mean you and Miller suddenly aren’t close.”

Monty drops his circuit board with a frustrated breath. “That’s exactly what it means,” he mutters. (More muttering.) Monty goes to stand but Bellamy’s hand darts out, grabbing Monty’s wrist and preventing him from leaving. 

Bellamy frowns. “What do you mean?” 

“He doesn’t–!” Monty nearly explodes. Instead, he pauses. He swallows it back. “He’s barely said five words to me since Bryan got here,” Monty tells Bellamy, trying to make it sound sharp and angry and feeling frustrated when he just sounds sad. “So–yeah. That’s it exactly what it means.” 

Bellamy’s face looks just as pathetic as Monty feels. “ _Monty_ ,” he sighs. 

“Don’t,” Monty murmurs. (Not a mutter, but a defeated breath.) “I know it doesn’t–it never would’ve…” he trails off, not even knowing what he wants to say. That it doesn’t matter? What it never would’ve worked? 

It _does_ matter, because it still aches inside of Monty like his heart is hollow. It _might’ve_ worked, but they’ll never get the chance to try. 

Bellamy uncurls his fingers around Monty’s wrist and drops his arm back to his side. Miller and Bryan still look content to just sit on the couch across the room for the rest of forever. 

“You like him?” Bellamy asks gently. 

Monty wants to say no. A _no_ is inside of him, screaming. But he nods. Because he does. 

Bellamy looks back to them as well, two boys too handsome for their own good, too hopeful even in this time of uncertainty. Monty thinks, not for the first time since he’s seen Miller and Bryan together in any capacity, that it could’ve been him. It could’ve been Miller’s arm around Monty’s shoulder, Miller nosing into Monty’s hair, Miller with his capable lips… 

“I’m fine,” Monty lies. Fine, fine, fine. He’s always fine. 

“No you’re not,” Bellamy says. There’s another sigh there. They’re both quiet for a moment before Bellamy stands, resting his hand on Monty’s shoulder and squeezing once. “They’re different people now,” he says carefully. “They haven’t seen each other in four months. In that time…” he trails off, shrugging. “They’re different now.”

Monty blinks. “What are you saying?”

“Don’t give up,” Bellamy tells him. He squeezes Monty’s shoulder another time before walking away, leaving Monty and his useless circuit board alone. 

Monty only realizes he’s staring again when Miller looks up, catching his gaze, and smiles. It’s not the sort of smile he gives to Bryan, it’s a different smile. A smile for Monty. Warm and languid and so freaking perfect. Miller tips his head in Monty’s direction and Monty tips his head in response, fighting back a smile of his own. 

 _Don’t give up_ , he thinks before getting back to work. 


	64. a quiet space

“Monty,” Raven says gently, but it’s that gentle tone that makes his blood boil. “Just–take a minute.”

He doesn’t mean to overreact. Really. But his hand flies out and shoves the various items in front of him onto the floor. Monty thought he would love Science Island. He thought he would love getting to _do_ something. But it’s like his brain is static and his fingers are full of molasses and nothing is working. 

 _Nothing is working_.

“Monty,” Raven says, a bit sharper. With a deep breath, Monty stalks out of the lab. He walks past Abby, concern on her face, past Jackson, looking shocked. There’s nothing to say _._ No words can help him.He misses Arkadia. He misses _Jasper_. He misses his room and his bed and–

“Hey.” He stops, someone snagging the hem of his shirt and pulling him to a stop. Monty turns ready to snap at whoever it is, when the insane amount of _worry_ on Nathan Miller’s face makes him pause. “You okay?” Miller asks. 

Monty deflates. “ _No_ ,” he cries. “No! I can’t figure out the equation that’s going to save the freaking world and Raven keeps looking at me like I’m broken and I–”

“Come with me,” Miller cuts him off. He tugs the hem of Monty’s shirt again and there’s a sigh, but Monty finds himself following Miller anyway. “When I get stressed,” Miller says, leading Monty down some twisting turning halls without looking back to see if Monty’s following him, “and I miss home, I come here.” 

Miller leads Monty into an empty room, the walls bare and the floor carpeted, but past that and out onto a balcony. “Becca’s mansion is insane,” Monty mutters. 

Miller squats to sit and hangs his legs out over the edge, gesturing for Monty to do the same. In the distance, between the trees, there’s a snapshot of the beach. It’s right around sunset and the angle is perfect with the sun dipping down below the horizon, filling the sky with wonderful oranges and reds. 

Monty lets out a soft gasp and Miller turns to him, a rare smile on his face. “It’s…” Monty starts, his eyes flicking back to the sunset, and Miller nods. 

“It is,” he agrees quietly. 

They stay out there until the sun is gone completely, until the reds turn into purples turn into blacks. Neither of them speak. It’s unnecessary. This moment is more than Monty could’ve asked for. Monty shuffles a little, closer to Miller, and rests his head against Miller’s shoulder. Miller exhales. 

“Thanks,” Monty whispers. “I needed this.”

“What you need,” Miller whispers back, “is to take a break every now and then and _breathe_.” Monty sighs again and Miller moves a little closer. “Okay?” 

Monty isn’t sure if he’ll do it, what with the end of the world and all, but still he nods. 

They wait until stars poke through the sky to head back inside. 


	65. life in the bunker

Life in the bunker was not what Monty expected it to be. 

If anything, he thought it would be harder. The worst of it was not _knowing_. Harper and Jasper were still out there, living up their last days, and Monty would never know what became of them. And that was awful. It fucking _sucked_.

But he had people here who still loved him. He had Clarke and Bellamy and Raven and even Miller was here, sometimes a rare smile on his face that reminded Monty of sunshine when they were still allowed to see it. 

Today while Monty sat, his back against the wall of one of the many hallways that the bunker had, hoping to remain unnoticed, Miller lowered himself to the ground beside him in silence. In silence they sat. Monty didn’t have anything to say, and it didn’t seem like Miller had much to say either, so the silence was okay. 

“So,” Miller finally said. Monty looked over at him, surprised at the sound of his voice, soft and unsure. “The world is really shitty right now.”

Monty startled himself by laughing. “Yeah, you could say that again.”

“The world is _really_ shitty right now,” Miller repeated. Monty smiled, thunking his head backwards against the wall. “And I know you’re–obviously you’re still upset about how things have happened. I mean we’ve only been here a few months. But.” Miller’s smile slipped a bit. “Monty, I really like you.” 

Monty’s smile disappeared, too. “What?”

“I’ve liked you since fucking–since Mount Weather was our biggest problem. But I had Bryan. And then you weren’t single either. And it–I know it’s not convenient and–”

“What about Jackson?” Monty cut him off. “Weren’t you two–”

“It didn’t _mean_ anything,” Miller hurried. “I mean he was nice– _is_  nice, doesn’t totally hate me for ending things before they even really began. But–fuck.” Miller thunked his head backwards too. “I just wanted to tell you.” 

Monty opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to process this. There had been moments. Many moments. In which Monty thought that _maybe_ Miller liked him. But Miller was always so hard to read and there was always something else happening that there was never any chance to even think about it. 

Until now.

“You like me?” Monty repeated. 

“Like–an insane amount,” Miller said. He was looking straight ahead despite the fact that Monty has moved to look directly at him. “And I didn’t–I’m not saying this because I’m expecting anything. It’s just–”

“So if I completely walked away right now,” Monty cut him off again, “you’d be okay?”

“It’d fucking suck,” Miller admitted, “but then at least I’d know.” Another startling laugh crawled out of Monty, so loud and bright that Miller turned to look at him. “You’re not going to do that though,” Miller murmured, “right?”

“Nu-uh.” 

Before Miller even had time to react, to smile, Monty slipped his hands around his cheeks and tugged him close. Miller’s scruff was strange against Monty’s hands, against his cheeks, but the soft breath between them was distracting and pleasant. Miller kissed Monty as though he was something delicate, like the act of kissing him at all would cause Monty to unravel and he wanted to savor it. 

Monty had never been kissed like this.

Before it had always been an act of urgency, trying to squeeze as much of it into the moment as possible. This was different. 

“C’mere,” Miller rasped and Monty fumbled, hurrying to climb into Miller’s lap so the angle was better, deeper. 

With his legs around Miller’s hips he gave in, letting this boy who’d also been through so much, broken and tired, kiss Monty like it was something to heal them both. There still wasn’t any urgency in it, they were kissing just to kiss.

Monty reveled in the gentle noises that Miller made, melted as Miller curled his fingers into Monty’s hair behind his ears, sighed every time Miller’s lips chased his own. 

It felt as though Monty’s heart was pounding against his ribcage, threatening to leap out of his chest. When Miller’s hands framed Monty’s sides, brushing the skin of his hips where Monty’s shirt had ridden up, Monty practically whined. 

Monty pulled away enough to lean in and press his forehead to Miller’s shoulder. 

Then they were just breathing, their hearts beating as one. 

Miller’s chest rumbled with a quiet laugh. “Wow,” he murmured. “Not what I was expecting to happen, but.”

“Was that not great for you?” Monty asked. 

Miller shivered, reacting to Monty’s breath across his skin. “No, Monty, that was fucking fantastic.” He shifted so Monty would pull back, and then they were looking at each other, warmth in both of their eyes. “You wait lifetimes for kisses like that,” he murmured. 

Monty’s heart somersaulted. 

“Kisses like that are great,” Monty said. “But they don’t–they can’t fix everything.”

“No one’s trying to fix anything,” Miller murmured, curving his hand around Monty’s cheek. “We’ve all been through so much shit I’m not sure it’s even possible. I’m not trying to _fix_ you.”

Monty swallowed. “Then why–”

“I told you why,” Miller cut him off, tugging him close enough that their lips were brushing without the two of them really kissing. “Because I like you.” 

Monty leaned in, sealing their lips together.

“I hate it here,” he whispered.

“Me too,” Miller whispered back. He kissed him again. “Can we at least do it together?” 

With a smile, Monty nodded, and then they were kissing again, just to pass the time. Lazy, endless kisses that deserved to happen in glowing forests or large flower-filled meadows, but kisses that Monty was happy were happening here, too. 

Life in the bunker could be okay. 


	66. waiting for jasper

When Monty makes his way back out to the rover, his hands empty and his face blank, Nate leaps out without even warning anyone else inside. They’re in a rush. They have to get to Polis as soon as they can. And yet.

“Where’re your bags?” Nate asks. Monty glances over his shoulder before looking back at him. “Monty.”

“Jasper’s still in there,” he says, looking toward the ground. “He’s part of that DNR group, or whatever, and he doesn’t want to come.”

Nate’s heart twists in his chest. He takes a deep breath. “You can’t–” he pauses, needing to word this as gently as possible. “You can’t make Jasper do anything he doesn’t want to do, Monty.”

Seemingly understanding this, Monty nods. 

“I know,” he says. “But Nate–he’s my best friend. He’s the only family I’ve got _left_.” Nate reaches out for Monty, terrified that he’ll pull away, and actually sighs in relief when Monty lets him lace their hands together. “I have to try to convince him,” Monty says, his voice dropping. “Maybe it won’t work. Maybe it will. But. I have to try.” 

How many days do they have left? Nate can’t remember. It’s not enough, that’s all he knows, and the journey to Polis might be a long one depending on the obstacles. This is when Monty squeezes his hands, and Nate realizes that Monty’s not getting in the rover.

“Monty,” he rasps. 

“I need you to go to Polis,” Monty says. The aching, empty hole that rips Nate’s chest open makes it hard to breathe. Fear floods him at once, cold and gripping, and Nate can’t move. Monty isn’t coming with him. “You’re needed there. And I’ll feel better knowing–

“ _Monty_ ,” Nate chokes. 

“ _He’s my brother_ ,” Monty says, so firmly, so _sure_ , that Nate understands. Of course Nate understands. So when Monty murmurs, “I need you to understand,” of course Nate nods. He doesn’t want to. He hates it. He hates it more than anything. But of course he nods. “Thank you,” Monty whispers. 

Nate’s not surprised his voice sounds thick when he says, “I’ll make sure there’s a rover for you.” 

Monty nods too, smiles softly, and this is it. Monty’s staying. And Nate’s leaving. 

And then Monty says, so quietly Nate almost doesn’t hear it, so gently that it’s barely a whisper, “I love you.” 

But more than anything, it sounds like he’s saying goodbye. 

Nate bends down and captures Monty’s lips with his own, knowing that even echoing the phrase is not going to be enough. He needs Monty to understand how he feels, how desperately he needs Monty to make it to Polis, how much he _loves him_ and how afraid he is all at once, but also how much he trusts him that this will be okay. 

Nate kisses him like the world is ending, because it is.

And despite the fact that Nate trusts him, and despite the fact that he’s sure of his relationship with Monty, he still pleads, “Come back to me.” 

Monty doesn’t say he will, and he doesn’t nod, but he kisses Nate one last time before pulling away and it feels like a promise anyway. 


	67. warm me up

Monty hadn’t _meant_ to fall in the lake. Like, who would? But it was their first excursion out of the bunker in _years_ and seeing a natural body of water was _exciting_  and so, he slipped. The weather was not ideal for venturing back out into the world, icy and snowy and cold. 

He’s out with Raven when it happens, and by the time they make it back to the camp they set up, Monty’s limbs are completely stiff. They hurry him to the medical tent where Clarke and Miller are sitting side by side, both with a book in their hands as they read in silence, both immediately alert when the flaps are pushed open. 

“Monty?” Miller asks. 

“Fell in the lake,” Raven tells him, urgent. “We have to warm him up.” 

“Just got t-to get out of these c-clothes,” Monty gasps, but his voice sounds thick and he can’t stop _shivering_. His muscles twitch on their own accord and his lungs can’t bring in enough air and he’s so cold, he’s so cold, why is he _so cold_. 

“Body heat works best,” Clarke tells him. “Take off your clothes. Miller?” 

“On it,” Miller answers. 

“I’m f-fine!” Monty grits out. But Miller doesn’t hear him. He’s already pulling his shirt up and over his head and gesturing for Monty to do the same. “Miller!” 

“Take your fucking shirt off,” he nearly growls. Monty unwinds his arms from around his body and shucks off his shirt. It hits the ground of the tent with a squelching sound. “Pants.”

“ _Miller_ ,” Monty whines.

Miller unbuttons his own pants looking unamused at Monty’s reluctance. “C’mon,” Miller urges. 

“Over here,” Raven says. “I’ve got the sleeping bag ready.” 

The thought of climbing into a sleeping bag half-naked with Nathan Miller makes Monty shiver underneath his shivers. He is so fucking cold. Clarke gestures for Miller to go and so he does, and it takes Monty a moment to get his soaking wet pants off of him. 

“Jesus Christ, hurry _up_  Green!” Miller snaps. 

Why, if Miller is trying to be nice and save Monty from hypothermia, does he sound so angry about it? Finally Monty gets his pants off and toes off his socks and shoes as well and he moves to the back of the tent and there Miller is, waiting. He gestures with his head to join him and with a groan Monty climbs into the sleeping bag.

He is instantly, infinitely warmer. 

Miller wraps his arms around Monty and pulls him close. “Part your legs a bit,” Miller murmurs, before sliding his legs between Monty’s as an added area for warmth. Still shivering, Monty presses his forehead to Miller’s shoulder. “Arms around me,” he whispers. 

Monty’s arms wind around Miller at once. “You’re s-so _warm_!” he gasps. 

There’s a laugh in the space, both one from Miller which is soft and makes his chest rumble, and one from Bellamy’s who’s brought in more blankets to pile on top of them. Monty nuzzles close, sighing as the weight of the extra blankets on top of them becomes apparent. 

“We’ve been back outside for what, a day? And you’re already making my life difficult.” 

“That was my p-plan,” Monty murmurs. “M-make M-Miller’s life dif-ficult.” Miller’s heartbeat is steady and his hands are firm against Monty’s back. “I just s-slipped,” he says. 

“Difficult,” Miller mutters. 

“Why do you care s-so much anyway?” Monty asks. 

Miller’s quiet, but Monty feels him tighten his hold on him just a bit. 

“I don’t want you to get sick,” Miller says softly. That’s what life in the bunker was like. People getting sick. Running out of medicine. Watching people die from small things that could’ve been fixed if they’d had access to certain plants just outside the door. “I just…” 

“I won’t get s-sick,” Monty whispers back. “Pr-promise.” Monty twists his ankle with Miller’s and listens as Miller lets out a short breath. The sound makes Monty’s chest feel warmer, still. “Didn’t have to get s-so angry with me.”

“It’s a lot easier to be angry than let the worry fucking consuming me, Monty.” 

Another massive shiver wrecks him. “Wor-Worry?” 

“About you.” 

“About me?” Monty echoes.

Miller shifts a little, his nose now against Monty’s neck. “Yeah,” he breathes. “About you.” His hand eases down Monty’s back, and again Monty’s shivering for a different reason. “Use that big brain of yours, idiot.”

“It’s a little sl-slow from the _ice_ ,” he reminds Miller. 

Monty hears him swallow. “I like you,” Miller says. 

“W-wow. Get me n-naked and in b-bed before–”

“Shut up,” Miller laughs. He can feel Miller smiling against his neck. “I like you,” he says again, evenly, “and I’d rather you not die because you like falling into lakes.” 

“I l-like l-lakes,” Monty gets out with a grin. Another large shiver that has Miller pulling him closer. “I l-like _you_ ,” he adds. 

Miller laughs again, and Monty vaguely wonders if their friends are still around and listening. “Good,” Miller whispers back, his voice just as warm as his body, and Monty knows he’s smiling. “Now shush. And focus on not succumbing to hypothermia.” 

Monty laughs, too, and lets his eyes drift shut. “Will do.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> read them first on Tumblr: @madgesundersee


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